


Gondal - The Next Level.

by Jackmerlin



Category: The Marlows - Antonia Forest
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackmerlin/pseuds/Jackmerlin
Summary: There's unfinished business in Gondal.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is not a cross-over, the main plot point is totally ripped off from, um, I mean inspired by, the recent Jumanji film sequel. There might also be a few Narnian touches.  
> In Marlow chronology this takes place during the Easter holiday following Run Away Home. In real time it has moved forward a decade or so and is set somewhere in the mid to late nineties.

“Goodness, Lawrie, don’t lie on the sofa like that! You’ll wreck it! Have either of you seen Ginty yet?”  
“Not a whisker.” Lawrie, sprawled along the back of the sofa, rolled and flopped seal -like onto the cushions below. “She must have gone with the others.”  
“I don’t think so,” said Nicola, kneeling in front of the fireplace and setting a match to her neatly laid fire. It was an early Easter this year, but Spring was coming in late, and none of the rooms at Trennels had lost their winter chill. “Peter did _say_ it was only him and Patrick going to see the film.” She might have added what Peter had told her: that without putting it into words exactly, Patrick had made it quite clear that the presence of Ginty on any joint outing would mean that he, Patrick, would definitely _not_ be coming, thank you very much. It had given her a fierce, private joy to hear this, but it didn’t seem very sporting to repeat it to any of the others.  
“Riding Catkin?” suggested Lawrie idly. Ginty had taken to disappearing for long hours on Catkin. No one knew where she went, but she always spurned company, so Lawrie and Nicola tacitly turned in a different direction if they did happen to ride out at the same time.  
“She wouldn’t take him out again, and hardly in _this?_ ” Pam crossed to the window and twitched at the curtains, closing them against the sleety rain that was being spattered at the panes by a bitter wind.  
Ginty had not appeared at lunch. This had happened once or twice before, returning late from a long ride, or having missed a bus back from Colebridge, so it had been a minor source of irritation, but not yet Full Panic Stations. But now the afternoon had drawn on with no sign of her; the weather precluded the possibility that she was lurking round the farm somewhere in a day-dream - she was never known to offer to help on the farm even at the best of times - and even Nicola, the most hardily outdoorsy of the children, had taken shelter in the sitting room while it was still daylight.  
“Maybe she went into Colebridge to meet Ann after work?” suggested Nicola, watching the first tendrils of flame creep along her kindling sticks. She didn’t really think it terribly likely, but she was aware that her mother was on the verge of being in a flap.  
Ann had hardly spoken to her or Lawrie during all of last term; and as soon as they’d arrived home for Easter she’d found herself a part-time job, working at a holiday day-care club, helping keep children occupied and amused while their parents worked. Pam had disapproved, and tried to dissuade her, but Ann’s mind was made up and she refused to budge. It was evident that she would rather spend as little time with most of her family as practically possible; but she was still on good terms with Ginty.  
“Yes, she might, I suppose …. But in that case, she should have _said_ ….” Pam checked herself, biting back the irritable criticism that sprang from suppressed worry.  
Five months earlier, Nicola might have dismissed her mother’s poorly hidden anxiety as being typical of the way some members of her family _fussed_ \- Karen, Ann, Ginty herself. But while not considering herself one of them, Nicola had learned that people weren’t always where you thought they were, nor were they always ‘fine’ where they were.  
With some regret, because her fire was starting to crackle in a most satisfying way, and abandoning her long-held principle against volunteering (drummed into her head by Giles, and hadn’t _he_ effectively volunteered to do something really hazardous last holidays?) she said, “I’ll go and see if she’s in the stables. She might be practising plaiting Catkin or something.”  
“Would you?” said her mother, visibly pleased and relieved. “I’ll give Kay a ring just in case she passed her way.”  
Which was most unlikely, thought Nicola. Ginty had never shown the least interest in any of the Dodds. She pulled on wellies and macintosh at the back door, not looking forward to going out into the savage weather, and wondering if this was what Ann felt like, being so beastly helpful all the time. Then it struck her that Ann wasn’t really all that helpful any more - not all last term, not really at home - except washing up after supper and they all did that - Ann was pretty much doing her own thing and not caring what they thought of it. Caught by the newness of this realisation, she was still standing at the outside door when Lawrie clattered through the kitchen.  
“Wait for me! I’m coming too.”  
Mildly surprised - because Lawrie never put herself out for anyone else - Nicola waited. Lawrie never much liked being left on her own, even in a snug warm sitting room.  
Lawrie, trying to hurry, put her feet into the wrong wellies and fumbled zips; eventually, however, they were running, heads down and hoods up, through the pelting rain towards the stableyard.  
“Why are we doing this exactly?”  
“You didn’t have to come!”  
“I know. But why are you worried about where Ginty is?”  
“ I’m not specially. She’s probably just moping around somewhere out of sight like she always is.”  
“ _So?_ ”  
Nicola let the implied question hang until they reached the stables, where the overhanging roofs gave them shelter.The yard was quiet and deserted. Peering over stable doors they found even the usually restive Catkin lying down.  
“Oh, don’t get up!” said Nicola, but Catkin having seen them, heaved himself to his feet, and came whickering for attention. Clearly there was no Ginty here. Nicola found a couple of old Polos in her pocket and absently stroked his nose.  
“Well?” said Lawrie. “What are we doing?”  
“I dunno. It’s just you know how Dad always says about how we shouldn’t worry Mum but we all still do.”  
“ _We_ don’t.”  
“Much,” said Nicola, more honestly. “There was my conduct mark last term. But there’s been loads of things over the last couple of years if you think about it properly. And then when Mum went away and actually ended up having a _nice_ time she had to come back to find Peter and Giles half-dead in bed with an illness none of us had got ….”  
“We did _say_ it was man-flu. And they weren’t in bed long.”  
“I know all that. Just - it’s always _something_ with us.” Nicola was remembering what Rowan had said before they went back to school - ‘For goodness sake, behave yourselves this term. Mum’s just about had enough.’ Because grown-ups, according to Rowan, didn’t just _mind_ when things happened; they also felt responsible. But she couldn’t explain all that to Lawrie.  
“Let’s try the Shippen,” she suggested.  
“She never _asked_ , if she is up there,” Lawrie said, ever alert to potential unfairness. A computer had been bought and installed in the room above the Shippen, mainly as a combined Christmas and birthday present for Peter, but with the proviso that the others were occasionally allowed to use it. By common consent, they were scrupulous about ‘asking first’. It was after all Peter’s room.  
A pencil fine crack of light outlined the door to the Shippen’s upper room. Someone had gone in and put the lights on anyway, and as they climbed the steps they could hear the constant low hum of the fan heater whirring. Nicola pushed the door open expecting to see Ginty.  
“She’s been here,” she said to Lawrie. Ginty’s new Puffa coat hung over the back of the swivel chair in front of the desk - not surprisingly, because the room was roasting hot from the heater going at full blast. “Typical,” muttered Nicola, switching it off, meaning both that it was typical of Ginty to have used the electric heater rather than lighting the fire, and then to leave it on when she left. Although, where had she gone?  
“She’s left her coat. She can’t be far away.”  
“Gone for a pee?”  
“We’d have seen her.”  
“What was she doing anyway?” Lawrie snatched the computer mouse and scrubbed it on the desk until the screen came to life; the swirling blues of the screen saver giving way to a snowy landscape. Snow stretching into the distance where it was broken up by slate coloured outcrops of rock.  
“What the -?”  
“She’s gone back to Gondal - on her own!”  
“What is she playing at?”  
They stared at the screen and then each other in consternation.  
“She must have thought she could finish it on her own,” said Nicola, in dismay.  
“Let’s see what she was doing there,” said Lawrie, clicking the mouse.  
“No! Lawrie, _don’t!_ ” cried Nicola, grabbing at Lawrie’s hand on the mouse. “No!”

………………..

_Nicholas and Jason stumbled in the snow and reached out for each other. Cursing, they struggled a few steps through soft snow that sank treacherously beneath them, until they felt harder packed ice under their feet. There they paused, taking in each other and their surroundings. They were wearing warm weatherproof sealskin trousers and tunics, with heavy fur cloaks on top. Nicholas, checking himself found he had a thick leather belt, with a hefty knife in his scabbard, and a heavy pouch. “At least we’re dressed for it,” he muttered. “What are you looking so pleased about?”_   
_Jason looked positively delighted, the cold air bringing a glow to his cheeks. “Look, we’ve got horses!” He was right. Fifty or so yards away, two shaggy ponies were pawing at the snow, searching through it for the frozen mosses. They wore bridles and saddles with packs attached._   
_Jason and Nicholas trudged slowly through the snow towards the ponies, who let themselves be caught with only a resigned huff._   
_“Now what are we going to do?” asked Nicholas._   
_“Still so grumpy, Nicholas?” said Jason lightly. “We’re going to meet up with Crispian, of course.”_   
_“And how do you suggest we do that? And how do we get back?”_   
_“We follow the footprints!” said Jason, lightly springing into the saddle. “Look!”_   
_Jason was right again. Partly obscured by a sprinkling of fresh snow, but still visible, were a line of footprints stretching into the distance through the snow._   
_Nicholas sighed. Seeing no help for it, he mounted his own pony and followed Jason’s lead._   
_The ponies picked their way steadily along the trail made by the footprints. Occasionally they veered away from it, and their riders learned to trust them, as they seemed to be aware of where the snow was deeper and more dangerous. There were places where the person on foot had floundered and fallen, the snow broken up into gouged hollows where they’d struggled._   
_The sky lowered and darkened, heavy with the threat of more snow. Nicholas pulled his cloak as tightly round himself as he could; the air sharp and bitterly cold. They rode on, seemingly forever …._   
_“There!” cried Jason, pointing ahead. “There’s someone lying there!”_   
_Nicholas saw too; a crumpled figure in the snow. But as they drew close enough to see, they realised that it was not Crispian._   
_Nicholas slid stiffly off his pony. The person was a girl, crumpled up and unconscious. She was wearing what looked like palace clothes, velvet slippers stiff with frozen snow, a red dress clinging uselessly to her limbs, a richly patterned embroidered silk shawl that was surely useless against the cold. Her skin was white and frozen, and Nicholas, reaching to touch her hand, feared she was dead._   
_“Who is it?” asked Jason, bewildered._   
_Nicholas bent over and felt the faintest breath at the girl’s mouth. There was only one person this could be. Reluctantly he said, “Jason, this is Rosina.”_


	2. Rosina.

“Who’s Rosina?” asked Lawrie.  
“She’s a character Patrick and Ginty made up,” Nicola said, feeling uncomfortable.  
“They went on doing Gondal without us! Why didn’t they say? I wanted to go on too!”  
“I don’t know if they went on,” said Nicola, although it seemed obvious that they _must_ have carried on, probably all of last summer.. “They did her at the same time as we were all doing it.”  
“Did they? When? Why didn’t they tell _us?_ ” asked Lawrie, preparing to feel injured at having been left out.  
“Don’t create about it now, Lal.”  
“I’m not creating. But they knew _I_ didn’t want to stop Gondalling either, so if they went on doing it they could have _told_ me.”  
Briefly Nicola wondered if Lawrie ever noticed _anything_. She explained, “I think it was meant to be - private - just for them. I only heard Patrick say something once by accident.. But for goodness sake, don’t go on about it now - we’ve got to get her into shelter and warm.”

……………

_“You’ll have to help me get her onto my horse,” Nicholas said, crouching over the limp, frozen body. Jason raised his eyebrow at the peremptory tone in his subordinate’s voice, but came to his aid briskly. It was more awkward than they’d expected, heaving the unresponsive body into the saddle and arranging her torso and arms in such a way that she wouldn’t slide straight off. The pony stood calm and sturdy as they let Rosina lie on his neck, arms falling down his shoulders. Nicholas unclasped his own cloak and draped it over the top of the slumped body. He hoped the pony’s own body heat would help warm the girl from underneath._   
_“I’ll have to walk beside and help hold her on,” he said. “Perhaps if you rode ahead to find shelter?”_   
_“Where?”_   
_They looked around at the featureless landscape. “That’s our best chance,” said Nicholas, indicating an area where a few craggy rocks broke through the snow. “If we can even find a bit of a hollow ..”_   
_Jason sprang onto his horse and urged it forward, glad to be moving. Nicholas followed slowly, trudging beside his laden pony. The ground rose more steeply towards the rocks than they had realised when they’d been staring into the endless whiteness, and Nicholas was soon aware of aching limbs and shortness of breath._   
_He plodded on. The gap between him and Jason lengthened until eventually, raising his eyes to look ahead, he realised that Jason was out of view, having disappeared behind the rocks. Shortly after he heard a cheerful cry, and Jason reappeared, waving._   
_“Look at this!” crowed Jason, when Nicholas had wearily caught up. “It’s a cave, and there’s firewood!”_   
_Nicholas forced his weary legs to keep going. By the time he rounded the spur of outflung rocks and saw the small cavern, Jason had begun building a fire in a ring of blackened stone. The cave was roughly horse-shoe shaped, about the size of a large room, and stacked against the back wall was a neat pile of chopped wood, dry and well seasoned._   
_Nicholas spread his cloak on the floor, and with Jason’s help, lifted Rosina out of the saddle. “Your cloak, too,” he said as they lay Rosina down._   
_“Mine?” asked Jason, reluctantly, but then seeing the need, unclasped it and placed it over the girl. “Have we got anything to light the fire with?”_   
_Nicholas fumbled in his pouch and found a small pouch of coins, a folding penknife, and - to his relief - a flint. He knelt, and after a couple of failed attempts, managed to strike a light. “See what’s in the packs,” he suggested._   
_They took the packs and left the ponies tethered near the cave entrance. Jason rummaged through them, while Nicholas nursed the fire. “Blankets; water bottle; a sort of tin mug and a spoon; these look like ship’s biscuits; strips of old leather ...”_   
_Nicholas looked. “That’s dried meat. Good.” He tried to remember how the old regimental doctor treated soldiers who’d been brought in from the cold. “Can you fill the mugs with snow and put them by the fire to heat up. We need to warm her up from the inside too if we can.”_   
_The fire began to crackle and give out heat. The mugs of snow, sitting in the embers, melted and started to simmer. Jason experimentally dipped a dried meat strip into one of them._   
_“We’ll need to move on at first light,” said Nicholas._   
_“What if she doesn’t come round?”_   
_“Even so. We don’t know who left this firewood here, or when they might come back.”_   
_“Oh. Do you think they might be hostile?”_   
_“We don’t even know what territory we’re in, whether it’s friendly to Exina or not. This cave might belong to hunters and traders or it might belong to brigands and thieves. Or those men from Gaaldine who took Rupert.”_   
_“We have weapons,” Jason stated boldly._   
_“Two of us, with an unconscious woman to protect?”_   
_“We must revive her.”_   
_“Help me sit her up,” said Nicholas. “We need to get some of this down her.” With some difficulty they lifted Rosina, and sat her up in Jason’s arms. Carefully Nicholas opened her mouth and tipped a spoonful of the warm liquid into the back of her mouth. Most of it dribbled out again. Nicholas tried again, tipping it into the back of her throat. This time, Rosina swallowed and then coughed convulsively. Her eyelids fluttered._   
_“It’s working!” said Jason. Nicholas gave her another spoonful and Rosina’s eyes opened._   
_She stared wildly at Ncholas, then looking round, at Jason. She struggled against the arms that supported her, sending the mug that Nicholas still held flying._   
_“You’re safe! My lady, you’re safe!”_   
_She tried to speak, in a voice that came out as a croak. “Ru - Rupert? Is Rupert here?”_   
_“I’m Nicholas, lady, and this is Jason.”_   
_“Oh.” She subsided._   
_“Drink this slowly,” said Nicholas, handing her the hot mug. Her fingers closed around it, gripping convulsively. After a moment she raised it to her lips and sipped._   
_“And eat,” ordered Jason. “If you soak these in the water, they’re not so hard.” He handed her one of the hard tack biscuits, and she obediently dunked it in the hot water._   
_Nicholas tried not to stare. Pale and trembling, with damp, bedraggled hair and a wretched vacant expression, Rosina nevertheless had the look of a legendary beauty. There was a translucent quality to her pale skin and her fine greeny-blue eyes that reminded Nicholas of_ _the stained glass panels in the great hall of the palace, which he had seen once at a banquet._   
_They did not talk immediately. They all ate some more dried biscuit and meat, and drank the melted snow water. The fire roared and began to give off a good heat. Nicholas caught himself nodding, and shook himself awake._   
_Rosina was gazing into the heart of the flames. Some colour had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes, while still sad, had a more animated look._   
_Jason fidgetted. At first he made himself useful; going outside to check the ponies and bring in more snow to melt; putting more wood on the fire. When there was nothing left to do, he squatted on his heels, looking expectantly from Nicholas to Rosina and back._   
_“We need to talk,” he said, impatiently. Then looking pointedly at Rosina,. “We’ve been kept in the dark long enough.”_   
_“Let the lady recover, Jason,” said Nicholas._   
_Rosina started. “Jason ……. Do you mean Jason of Exina? Jason the king?”_   
_“Indeed. But you have the advantage of us, my lady,” said Jason, with a stiff formality at odds with their surroundings._   
_Rosina made as if to speak, stammered and fell silent again._   
_“We’ve never met you before,” explained Nicholas. “Perhaps you could tell us who you are?”_   
_“My name is Rosina,” she said, her voice flat and toneless. “My father is the regent of Exina.”_   
_“The regent! How have we never seen you before?” asked Jason. “Do you live in the Palace too?”_   
_“My father keeps me hidden from view. I’m rarely allowed to set foot outside our private chambers. Sire, you must know what it is like to be under his control.”_   
_“I know,” said Jason. “But if you are his daughter - “_   
_“My father has no affection for me. He cares for me only as a way of furthering his own ambitions.”_   
_“Which are?”_   
_“He plans to wed me to you. Then he would have total control over the throne of Exina.”_   
_“To me! Do I have no say in the matter of my own marriage?”_   
_“No. You’re just a boy! What can you do?”_   
_Jason flushed. “Perhaps if I’m allowed to know what’s going on, I too can make plans! Let me assure you, my lady, that I want no part in this marriage!”_   
_“Have no fear - it’s no wish of mine!”_   
_They glared at each other, their faces both red in the firelight._   
_“My lady,” said Nicholas. “You say you were kept hidden away. Yet you managed to meet Rupert?”_   
_“Rupert, the traitor!” snarled Jason._   
_“He had more reason to do what he did than you knew, Sire. I first met him by chance, while I was at prayer. My father allowed me to go out to the small chapel near the palace if I covered myself with my shawl. It was the only time I was ever allowed to go anywhere so I feigned devotion and went every day. There I met Rupert, and, though I knew I should not, we fell to talking one day. We could not help ourselves. We - we fell in love. He swore to save me from a forced marriage.”_   
_“So where is the wretched coward now? He escaped justice after he tried to kill me!”_   
_“I do not know. We met one last time - and we quarreled. He said he wanted no more to do with me - over the silliest of nothings - and rode away.” Rosina’s voice wavered and she hid her face in her hands._

_…………._

“Except it wasn’t nothing, was it?” said Nicola. “You got him booted from school!”  
“ _What?_ ” said Lawrie.  
“He said he didn’t care about all that! He hated that school. He couldn’t have been happier to be leaving, that’s what he _said!_ ” Ginty exclaimed.  
“Maybe, but his mum was furious, and then you legged it and left him to take all the flak by himself!”  
“What _are_ you two talking about?” demanded Lawrie. The others ignored her.  
“I did not! Monica begged me to come. She desperately needed a friend!”  
Nicola made a scornful noise, weighing up the cheerful, sensible Monica she had met, with the picture Ginty had painted of a frail invalid pining away on her own. “Huh!”  
“She wanted me there, I explained all that to Patrick. I thought he’d understand.”  
“So it wasn’t anything to do with staying out of everyone’s way while the hoo-ha died down?”  
Lawrie burst in again, crossly. “Will one of you stop and _tell_ me what you’re going on about?”  
Both fell silent, neither much wanting to rehash their version of the story. But seeing that Ginty wasn’t going to explain, Nicola said tersely, “Ginty and Patrick were going out and now they’ve had a row.”  
“They were going out!” said Lawrie in astonishment. Then the penny dropped. “Is that who you were phoning all last term? Is that why you got the conduct mark?”  
Hearing Lawrie’s voice repeating it, Nicola realised that it was the first time she had formalised Patrick and Ginty’s relationship into words, even to herself. “Yes,” she said. “And now I suppose you’ve dragged us all back into Gondal to try and find _‘Rupert’_.”  
“I didn’t assume you’d all come crashing after me!” snapped Ginty.  
“It’s a good thing we did though, isn’t it? What did you think you were going to do in all that get-up?”  
“Displaying all your nakednesses,” said Lawrie with relish, quoting Mrs Bertie.  
“I didn’t come back to be Rosina! I didn’t know that was going to happen - I wanted to be Crispian again. I thought if I was Crispian and I could be with Rupert again, we could go riding in Gondal and having adventures, and we’d just be - be friends again. Like we were.”  
Nicola felt a reluctant stab of sympathy. “But we don’t know if Rupert - and Malise - will even come. We’re stuck in the game. What are we supposed to do?”  
“We have to finish the game!” said Lawrie, with a sudden burst of excitement. “It’s obvious, isn’t it. We have to go back to Exina and I have to reclaim my throne!”


	3. The journey begins.

_They left at first light. They wasted some time in discussion as to which way to go; they had no compass, maps or any directions. It was Jason who came up with the idea of letting the ponies have their heads. Horses given a free rein will always take their rider home, he argued, so they would at least get somewhere. Nicholas pointed out that they didn’t know where the ponies actually came from, but Rosina, agreeing with Jason, argued that the horses had been provided for their use, so ought to have come from Exina._  
 _Nicholas and Jason decided to take turns riding, as the ponies were rather small to take two riders comfortably as well as the packs. Jason offered to take first turn walking._  
 _The ponies flicked their ears in surprise at being urged forward without direction, but once they realised they could pick their own way, soon lengthened their stride and hastened onwards. Their pace was soon so brisk that the solitary walker was left far behind, and the riders had to regularly pull up and wait._  
 _After the third halt, Jason and Nicholas swapped places and Jason and Rosina rode on together. Nicholas tried to work out which way they were going, but the sun remained hidden behind a layer of heavy cloud. The land through which they travelled remained cold, bleak and featureless beyond craggy piles of rock. Their way seemed to be mostly going downhill, which made for easier walking, but also left Nicholas wondering if the ponies had any idea where they were going or were simply picking the easiest way._  
 _At their next halt, Jason pulled Nicholas aside. “We can’t let Rosina walk. We’ll have to keep taking turns.”_  
 _“Why not?”_  
 _“She’s only wearing those little slippers. She can’t walk over this terrain. And she’s not used to it either. Not like we are.”_  
 _Nicholas nodded. They had given Rosina the blankets from the packs to wrap around herself, but they had nothing to put on her feet._  
 _Rosina’s strength and colour had returned after a night’s sleep, but she remained silent. She made no objection when Jason said he would walk again. She was at ease in the saddle, sitting her horse lightly and with confidence, but she made no attempt to talk to Nicholas. She constantly scanned the distant view as they rode, as if hoping to see something, or someone._  
 _They were descending steadily to lower ground. In places the snow had cleared, showing rough grass and moss beneath. The ponies slowed hopefully._  
 _“We should let them have a pick at the grass while Jason catches up,” suggested Nicholas. “I don’t know when they were last fed.”_  
 _Rosina started at his voice, having been miles away in her own thoughts. He repeated his suggestion, and obediently she slipped off her pony. The ponies gladly dropped their heads and began to paw at the mossy grass._  
 _They could ride without talking but it felt uncomfortable to stand waiting in silence._  
 _“When did you learn to ride?” asked Nicholas._  
 _“I learned to ride as a child,” Rosina explained. “I rode out with my father sometimes, or the ladies in waiting at court. My father still lets me ride out hunting sometimes - if I ask him when he’s in a good mood - but I have to have a close escort of men he trusts. Except one time - my horse leapt a ditch none of them dared to jump, and I galloped on …. Rupert was there and we rode together that day ….” Transported in time, Rosina’s face glowed at the memory. She turned to Nicholas, smiling, her eyes bright and alive in a way Nicholas had not yet seen. Nicholas, not one for women generally, was fascinated. ‘Goodness’ he thought, ‘poor Rupert never stood a chance.’_  
 _Jason soon caught them up, and took another turn riding. They were travelling consistently downhill and the going was easy. More patches of bare earth and vegetation_ _appeared as the snow thinned. At one point the clouds parted briefly to let through a chink of sunlight; enough for Nicholas to guess they were travelling in a roughly southerly direction._  
 _As far as he could tell from the backs of their heads, Jason and Rosina had got over their animosity of the previous night. They seemed to be turning towards each other and talking; he even heard the occasional sound of laughter ringing out._  
 _They were a long way ahead, and he was wondering rather uneasily when they were next going to pause and wait, when he heard a loud, panting sound - a beast breathing hard and quick. Something huge ran past him; fast, black, four-legged, almost as big as the ponies. He cried out a warning which was lost on the air; then saw the ponies throw up their heads and leap into a gallop. Carrying their startled riders, they soon became pin pricks on the distant plain._  
 _The animal, whatever it was, shaken off by the ponies’ speed, turned and loped back in Nicholas’ direction. He stood frozen, watching it come._  
 _It was a wolf, but bigger than he’d ever imagined a wolf could be. Its heavy fur was sable, black over most of its body, fading to silver on its chest and legs. When it was a few lengths away from him it stopped and faced him._  
 _Nicholas tried to make himself look as big as he could, standing squarely facing the animal. Its amber eyes were almost on a level with his own. He lowered the direction of his gaze away from its eyes so as not to trigger an attack, but couldn’t help staring at its enormous mouth. A lolling tongue hung over very long, sharp white teeth. Without making any sudden movement, Nicholas eased his knife out of his belt, and braced himself._  
 _The wolf licked its lips and made a sound very like a whimper. Surprised, Nicholas looked into its face, and saw that the animal’s eyes had a most curious expression. It reminded him of the hound puppies he had helped raise in the palace kennels._  
 _“Are you tame, boy?” he asked, keeping his voice very low and calm. “Do you belong to someone?”_  
 _The wolf whimpered again. Its massive tail swung tentatively from one side to the other._  
 _“Where’s your master? Come on, boy. I won’t hurt you,” crooned Nicholas softly. The wolf’s tail waved faster._  
 _“Come on boy,” and the animal bounded the last few feet towards him. It stopped just short, stretched both front legs out and bowed, its tail wagging frantically now._  
 _“Good boy, good boy,” said Nicholas. He slowly held out his hand. The wolf sniffed it and licked it, and then in sudden puppyish delight lolloped around Nicholas in random circles._  
 _“Steady, boy. You’ll frighten the horses again.” Far down the slope, Nicholas could see the others had regained control and were cantering back towards him. Seeing that he had apparently not been savaged by the wolf, they slowed to a trot and then a walk. The ponies snorted suspiciously and refused to come closer than shouting distance._  
 _“Nicholas the wolf tamer!” Jason called out. “I always wondered what your secret talent was!” He and Rosina laughed; relief after a brief fright obviously leaving them in high spirits._  
 _“Here boy,” Nicholas called the wolf sternly. “Sit!” A confused expression crossed the wolf’s face, then it lowered its haunches and hovered in a rather wriggly ‘sit’, its tail fanning the ground. The ponies rolled their eyes and stamped, clearly not yet convinced._  
 _With the wolf walking on the other side of Nicholas from the ponies, they moved on again._  
 _They stopped to let the ponies rest when they thought it must be around midday, and ate some more of their jerky and biscuit. Nicholas shared his with the wolf, who slobbered gratefully over the titbits._  
 _“There’s something burning over there,” said Rosina, who had been peering into the distance. The others looked too. What at first glance might have been a plumy cloud did indeed appear to be a column of smoke when they stared hard._  
 _“That means people!” said Jason, eagerly stating the obvious._  
 _“We don’t know who they’re likely to be,” warned Nicholas._  
 _“We have to find out. We can at least get directions,” said Rosina. “We don’t have to tell them who we are.”_  
 _They had no way of disguising themselves, but as Jason pointed out, most ordinary citizens didn’t actually know what King Jason looked like in the flesh. The official portraits that were circulated to the small settlements of Exina showed a young and sickly boy._  
 _They expected to see a collection of huts, maybe one bigger dwelling with a chimney, all fenced in with a palisade of sharpened sticks. But what came into view as they drew nearer was like nothing they’d ever seen before._  
 _“What is that contraption?” asked Jason._  
 _Rosina frowned. “Are they carriages?”_  
 _“But what’s that in front of them?”_

“There aren’t any trains in Gondal!” exclaimed Ginty. “What’s it doing here?”  
“Why can’t there be trains?” asked Nicola.  
“Because it’s all wrong! Gondal wasn’t supposed to be like _now_. It’s - it’s quasi-mediaeval!” stuttered Ginty, grabbing at a phrase which she didn’t fully understand but liked the sound of anyway.  
“We haven’t been here for a while,” said Lawrie. “Maybe time goes on without us.”  
“No!” said Ginty. “That’s not how it works.”  
“Why not?” asked Nicola again. “If there _are_ trains, that’s the first sensible thing that’s happened. We’d better go and see if we can get a train back to Exina.”


	4. This is Gondal.

_“It must be for us,” cried Jason, leading the way towards the strange machine. “Those are the royal colours of Exina!”_  
 _The engine was painted in a rich, shining shade of scarlet, with a broad horizontal band of deep gold running the length of the train. They were used to seeing those stripes on the flags that flew above the palace, and on the ceremonial shields that the guards carried on parade._  
 _The column of steam rising from the chimney of the great engine had slowed and narrowed as the train stood idling on the tracks. As they drew nearer they could see wooden steps lowered from one of the doors, and a wide ramp leading into the very last carriage._  
 _They were just close enough to see the Royal Coat of Arms embossed on every carriage door when a figure emerged from the engine and jumped down to the ground._  
 _The wolf, who had been padding silently beside Nicholas, pricked its ears and uttered an excited yelp. It leapt away, bounding towards the man by the train. A series of joyous whimpers and howls came from its throat as it stood on its hind legs and put its front paws on the man’s shoulders, almost knocking him over._  
 _Nicholas, who had run after the wolf, afraid that it might frighten the stranger, heard the man shouting out happily, “Sammy! Oh thank goodness Sam! Where have you been?”_  
 _Nicholas stared at him. He was a very young man, dressed in a train driver’s uniform of overalls and cap, with a friendly, open expression._  
 _“Chas?”_  
 _“I’m Chaz,” said the young man. “With a Z you see.” He peered at Nicholas with a baffled expression on his face. “Sorry, you must be - ?”_  
 _“Nicholas - Nicola. Chas, how did you_ get _here?”_  
 _Another person appeared behind Chaz. Nicholas saw a young woman, dressed in practical leggings and tunic, with long brown plaits wound under a red cap. “Rose?”_  
 _“I’m Maria here,” said the young woman. “I’m glad you found us. Do you like our train?”_  
 _Jason and Rosina joined them, leading the ponies._  
 _“Oh, you’ve got horses,” said Maria. “Do they talk?”_  
 _Jason looked at Maria as if he thought her simple. “Of course not,” he said with scorn. “They’re_ horses. _”_  
 _“Oh,” said Maria, disappointed. Chaz looked hard at Rosina and Jason, puzzling them out. They met his glance, equally suspicious, then Chaz asked, “Which of you is Lawrie? And Peter?”_  
 _Nicholas explained who everyone was. “We need to talk,” he said. “Can we all go and sit in a carriage?”_  
 _“Come in our dining car,” invited Maria. “You can have anything you want to eat. But what about the horses?”_  
 _“_ We can go and have a rest in that nice horse box you’ve got at the back of the train. It smells as though you’ve got some fresh seed hay in there, _” suggested a voice. Everyone turned to look at Jason’s pony._  
 _“You do talk!” cried Maria._  
 _“_ Of course we do, my dear. When there’s someone worth talking _to_ …”

“ _No!_ ” snapped Ginty. “The horses don’t damn well _talk!_ Where do you think you are? This isn’t Narnia!”  
Rose flushed.  
“Why shouldn’t the animals talk?” asked Chas, in hot defence of his sister. “It’s a make-believe land; why can’t we have what _we_ want?”  
“Never mind the horses for now,” said Nicola, hastily intervening as both Ginty and Lawrie shouted at once. “It’s _Gondal_ \- It’s _our_ story …..”  
“Tell us how you got here,” ordered Nicola.  
Chas glanced at Rose, who was biting her lip and blinking hard, and clearly not yet capable of answering. He took an exaggerated deep breath. “We-ell…”  
“The short version, Chas.”  
“Okayee. We were coming to see you, and Mrs Bertie said you were in the stables. So we went there but you weren’t. Then we were still looking when we realised Sammy had gone so we were looking for him. We thought he might have gone in the Shippen so we had to look.”  
“You know you’re not supposed to go in Peter’s room unless he asks you, don’t you?”  
“Yes, but we were sure - we’d heard Sam’s claws scratching on the wooden steps the way they do, you know. Then we saw the door was open and we heard music …. And then we saw the music was coming from the computer and there was curly blue writing across the screen. We only wanted to look and see what game it was …. .”  
“And then what?”  
“Everything went a bit weird and we sort of got sucked into the game.” Chas hesitated. “We didn’t _mean_ to do anything!”  
With an effort, Rose came to his aid. “We only just touched the mouse a very little bit,” she explained. “And a screen came up saying ‘Welcome to Gondal.’ Then it asked us what our names and characters were. So of course Chas said he wanted to be a train-driver, but he liked his own name.”  
“With a Z” added Chas.  
“And I chose Maria. And I wanted to be like Mary in the Secret Garden, but I couldn’t think how to say that, so I said explorer. And then we were sort of lifted and spun around, and we were on the train. And then you came.”  
“So what is Gondal?” asked Chas. “We thought it must be one of those games where you can make up whatever you want?”  
“It’s the Brontes’ Gondal,” said Ginty, sniffily.  
“What are Brontes?” asked Chas.  
Ginty snapped again. “Who, not what.”  
“They were girls who wrote books,” Rose told him. “Emily, Charlotte and Anne.”  
“Oh,” said Chas, losing interest. But Rose was curious. “So is Gondal their story?”  
“Yes. And it’s a proper serious place where real things happen. So we don’t have kiddish things like talking animals or elves or made-up creatures,” said Ginty.  
“Oh. So what does happen?”  
“There’s wars and feuds and it’s all about royal families and nobles,” said Lawrie. “And I’m the King.”  
“Oh. Is that why you and Nacker had to be boys?”  
“I suppose - we were Royal Guards - exploring and fighting. Girls just can’t be all those things,” said Nicola. It sounded rather lame, especially with Rose’s clear eyes fixed on her.  
“In ‘Swallows and Amazons’ the girls _can_ be pirates and explorers,” Rose said.  
“Yes, but like I _keep_ saying, this is for grown ups, not _kids_ ,” Ginty snapped again.  
“Is that why you only got to be a princess?” asked Chas. His voice was innocent, but Nicola caught his expression.  
“What would you know about it?” Ginty snarled. “As it happens, I was a soldier too, first time.”  
“So what happened last time?” asked Rose, eager for the story.  
Ginty and Lawrie took turns recounting the story of their journey, Rupert’s capture and betrayal and near death. Nicola waited impatiently as Lawrie went into unnecessary detail about their adventures. Rose and Chas seemed remarkably calm about being trapped in a computer game but panic could easily set in when they realised they might not be home for tea.  
“Nacker,” said Rose quietly, while Ginty and Lawrie speculated about where Rupert would have gone. “Can the horses talk when it’s just me and Chas?”  
“I don’t see why not,” she answered. “They might even be able to help us.”  
“So how do we finish the story?” asked Chas loudly as Ginty glanced Rose’s way. “That’s how we end the game, right?”  
“I think we have to get Jason crowned and get rid of the Regent once and for all,” said Nicola. “So we have to go back to Exina.”  
“Right oh. Let’s all go on the train then!”  
Ginty frowned. Before she could protest, Nicola said quickly, “Absolutely. Full steam ahead! The quicker we get there the better.”

_“Go on into the dining car,” said Chaz. “We’ll load the ponies into their box.”_   
_“Are you sure?” asked Nicholas. Maria stood stroking the pony’s nose as he unstrapped the pack and saddle._   
_“Of course,” said Chaz firmly. “It’s our train.”_   
_“Follow us,” said Maria to the horses. She touched the rein lightly, and the pony obediently walked beside her to the rear of the train. Chaz led the other one._   
_It was most odd. Nicholas could have sworn that Maria was afraid of horses, and yet he could hear her chattering happily as she led the ponies up their ramp into the travelling box. It was too far down the train for words to be clear; and of course Chaz was there too,yet Nicholas had the distinct impression that he could hear more than one voice answering Maria._


	5. Planning Ahead.

_They ordered tea in the dining car. Liveried attendants brought them trays of thinly cut sandwiches and delicate savouries, cake-stands laden with tiny pale pink macaroons, lemon cake and strawberry tarts, and a samovar full of steaming water with which they made an endless supply of tea._   
_Jason settled beside Rosina and pressed her with all the most tempting food. He was being very attentive, thought Nicholas. Perhaps the Regent’s plan might come to fruition in an unexpected way._   
_Having made sure the ponies were comfortable, Chaz and Maria soon joined them and filled their own plates. Chaz put a pile of sausage rolls on the floor for Sam who devoured them in two great gulps._   
_“We need to prepare for an ambush as we return,” said Jason, his first hunger sated._   
_Nicholas nodded, having been thinking the same thing._   
_“He probably hoped that none of us would ever return - that we’d die on the journey. He certainly planned that I’d be killed somewhere along the way,” continued Jason. “But as that has failed, he’ll be waiting for us.”_   
_“How will he know?” asked Rosina, hesitant because it was her own father they were discussing._   
_“Oh, he’ll have his spies watching every route,” said Jason, and Rosina blushed at the hostility in his voice._   
_“We’ll be safe on the train though, won’t we?” asked Maria._   
_“Trains can be stopped - or derailed. It only takes a broken rail, or a tree down over the line,” Nicholas pointed out._   
_“We’ll have to go very steady then,” said Chaz. “Especially as we get closer to home.”_   
_“You'll need to be ready to escape if there’s an ambush. We should keep the ponies saddled,” Nicholas told Jason. “You and Rosina could travel in the ponies’ box; then if the train stops suddenly, you ride away fast while we create as much distraction as we can.”_   
_“I’m not riding away from a fight!” said Jason indignantly._   
_“It’s so you can get to Exina and surprise the Regent,” said Nicholas. “That’s the really important thing.”_   
_“If you explain to the horses what’s happening, they’ll be able to help you,” said Maria._   
_“She means they’ll probably know their own way home - if you’re galloping through the mountains at night, that is,” said Nicholas quickly._   
_Rosina nodded, suspicious, but conceding his point._   
_Chaz, inspired, added, “Rosina and Maria should switch clothes. Then Maria can pretend to be Rosina and distract them. She can be jumping out of the train and screaming hysterically, ‘no no, don’t take me back!’”_   
_“Not screaming hysterically,” said Rosina uneasily._   
_“”I should scream as much as possible,” said Maria, firmly. “To get their attention. Then I could swoon dramatically.”_   
_Nicholas’ hand slipped to the sturdy knife at his belt. He was reluctant to point out the obvious - that if they were outnumbered Maria could be in very real danger. It was Jason who said it, heedlessly, “What if they overpower you? If I am going to ride with Rosina for Exina there’ll only be three of you, and only one of you is trained to fight.”_   
_“We’ve got Sammy as well,” said Chaz, ruffling the thick fur on the wolf’s neck._   
_“And if it’s desperate I can always blow my horn,” explained Maria._   
_Meeting their puzzled gaze, she smiled and lifted the soft leather pouch hanging from her belt. She revealed a fine golden horn. She made as if to lift it to her lips, but didn’t blow it. “It’s for emergencies only,” she explained._

“No!” burst out Lawrie and Ginty simultaneously.  
“No! We keep _telling_ you! This isn’t Narnia! You don’t have ‘magical’ horns. What are you expecting - some blooming great lion to come running?” asked Ginty crossly.  
“Not a lion, maybe. But it’s my thing that I chose, so if I want to use it I will!”  
“What do you mean, your thing that you chose?” asked Lawrie suspiciously. “ _We_ don’t have things.”  
“You all have skills or special abilities. You can’t sword fight in real life, can you? That’s what you chose for the game, isn’t it?”  
“I suppose - “ began Lawrie. Ginty interrupted, “No, that’s just part of the story. It’s our role that we’re being. That’s not a magical extra thing.”  
Rose protested “What about you? You’re being so magically beautiful that everyone falls in love with you.”  
“I am not!”  
“Aren’t you?” asked Chas demurely. “Are you saying you’re as pretty as that in real life?”  
Ginty choked on several different answers trying to get out at once.  
Nicola jumped in. “If Rose and Chas have stuff that will help us, we use it. We have to get out of this game!”  
“But it’s not _right_ , is it?” complained Lawrie. “It’s not how Gondal was.”  
“How do _you_ know? Have you even read any of the Gondal and Angria stories?”  
“No - but no more have you,” Lawrie answered sulkily.  
“Yes, but I’m not pretending everything has to be a certain way.”  
“We’re not pretending either,” said Ginty. “But Gondal has to have rules about the way it is or it doesn’t make sense.”  
“It never did make sense! We just put in what we wanted Big, thoroughbred horses instead of shaggy little ponies that could live on moss. Falcons that we took hawking, that conveniently disappeared when we were in the middle of a fight. How do we know what was authentic - none of us had even read the stories, not even you, Gin.”  
Ginty opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it and was silent.  
“It was all the most colossal lot of nonsense then,” Nicola continued. “And it’s even worse now we’re stuck in it. So I say we use whatever we have. If Rose blows her horn and a flying carpet appears, I’m getting on it.”

_The atmosphere was tense. Rosina pushed her plate away. Jason crumbled a scone to dust in his fingers._   
_“Let’s talk about what you should do when you get into Exina,” suggested Nicholas._   
_“I’ll ride straight to the town square below the Palace and declare myself King,” said Jason. “The Regent can’t do anything to me in front of a crowd. I’ll announce that as I’m of age I’m going to be officially crowned. Then I’ll go straight into the cathedral and ask the Bishop to do it there and then.” He spoke with utter assurance, having been preparing for this moment for some time._   
_“You know what else you could do,” said Maria. “Announce that you and Rosina are going to be married at the same time. And that everyone can have a day’s holiday to help you celebrate, and come to the church to watch. You could give them a public feast in the square as well. That way there’ll be crowds round you all day. The Regent won’t be able to do anything to you in front of Rosina.”_   
_“That’s a jolly good idea,” said Chaz approvingly. “No one can stop you if you just say you’re getting married with no warning.”_   
_Jason said nothing. He looked hopefully at Rosina._   
_“No! No - I’m sorry, Sire, but you know that I can’t. My heart - my heart belongs to another.”_   
_“So say you’re married already - on the journey home you fell in love and couldn’t wait so you went into the first church you passed - and then have the feast for the people,” suggested Nicholas. “ It won’t matter once we’ve killed the Regent and got out of there.”_   
_“Killed the Regent?”_   
_“Yes. As soon as you’re alone with him in the Palace you’ll have to kill him quickly. Before he can call any of the guards.”_   
_“What if I just overpower him, then we can have a proper trial - for treason, and all the other things he’s done.”_   
_“His men would try to free him. And he might get off in a trial - you know how manipulative he can be,” argued Nicholas. “And the punishment for treason is death anyway - let’s just do it.”_

“But a trial would be such fun to do,” pleaded Lawrie. “Bags me be the Judge and do the summing up.”  
“No. Trials take forever in real life. I’m not staying stuck _here_ all that time.”  
“But it’s wrong,” said Lawrie. “It’s murder.”  
“Not if the Regent draws his own sword. Then it’ll be a duel. That would be super to do, wouldn’t it?” suggested Ginty.  
Lawrie thought hard, picturing it. “Yes, that could be good. We could fight up and down the grand staircase.”  
“And then the Regent could be almost winning and have you pinned against the balcony, just about to throw you down ….”  
“Then I gather all my strength for one final blow…”  
“And you strike him dead. That would be self-defence, not murder. And duels are a proper Gondal thing.”  
Ginty and Lawrie grinned at each other, imagining the scene. It would be all very well, thought Nicola, if it did work out as smoothly as that, but she couldn’t help wondering what other endings Ginty was secretly writing in her head. Was Rupert supposed to gallop back up to the Palace and carry Rosina away with him? Or was Rosina going to slip out while the drama of the duel distracted the others, and ride off to meet Rupert at a secret rendezvous?  
Either way, the thought was utterly depressing.


	6. In The Night.

_After some discussion, they decided to work on the assumption that the ambush, when it came, would most likely be within a day’s ride of home. So Chaz was told to let the train run at full speed for the first part of the journey. The others would all try to get some rest, apart from Maria, who was acting as Chaz’s stoker._   
_At an agreed point on the map, Chaz would slow the train; Maria and Rosina would switch clothes: the ponies would be saddled: and they would proceed at a slow enough pace that the train could be stopped within the distance thrown by the beam of its headlights._

_Nicholas lay on a bunk in one of the sleeper carriages. His body ached from the day’s walking, but his mind was too restless for sleep. He had offered to act as stoker for Chaz, but been turned down by Maria, who had seemed more offended than grateful for his offer._

_Nicholas’ father and grandfather before him had been members of the Palace Guard, the most elite troop in the Royal Army, and Nicholas had never expected to do anything other than follow in their footsteps. The women in his family looked after the home and raised children - or rather, they oversaw the housekeepers, cooks and nursemaids who ran the house and nursery. Maria, he supposed, came from different stock. He couldn’t imagine his mother shoveling coal in a steam train. He didn’t think Lady Rosina would fancy it much either._  
 _He remembered his female cousins, girls whom he had played with as a child, but had barely given a moment’s thought to since. For some reason their bored, furious faces resurfaced from the depths of his memory. He’d always scoffed when they wanted to play at being ‘captains’ or ‘explorers’. ‘You can’t, you’re a girl’ he’d pointed out, which was of course obvious,and it had been silly of them to get cross about it. But they’d grown tired of playing with him and retreated to their own private worlds - to places where he couldn't follow.._  
 _His tired mind eventually yielded to sleep, but seemingly straightaway, the changing rhythm of the slowing train woke him. He reluctantly pulled himself out of his bunk._  
 _This was the arranged stop, where they were going to prepare themselves. They met in the dining car and filled their packs with food and flasks of water. Rosina and Maria disappeared into a sleeping car and returned in each other’s clothes. Maria had tied the silky shawl around her waist as a belt to hitch up the flowing skirts, to allow herself to move more freely. She followed Rosina and Jason to the end of the train and helped them with saddling and bridling the ponies, chattering artlessly about the details of their plan._  
 _Nicholas checked the door and ramp of the ponies’ box, to make sure that Jason and Rosina would be able to exit quickly.Then he returned to the front of the train._  
 _It was a clear night, crisp and cold, with a bright yellow moon almost full. Nicholas stood a moment on the platform, admiring the sight of the great engine gleaming in the moonlight, the steam from its funnel gently blowing away in clouds that obscured the stars._  
 _Chaz having returned to the cab, looked out briefly and waved at Nicholas, the last one still on the platform. Nicholas gave him a thumbs up and moved to the first carriage_ _door._  
 _Something moved fast in the shadows behind him. His hand flew to his knife, but he was grabbed by the arm and pulled back sharply. He struggled but his assailant was strong. They fought._  
 _With his free arm he swung hard at the stranger’s face, but his other arm was wrenched behind him, dragging him away from the train. He hooked his leg between his opponent’s legs, tipping them both to the ground. They were evenly matched as they struggled; the stranger’s arms were hard with muscle. They were both panting and grunting with the effort of trying to overcome the other, wrestling each other down, punching fiercely when they had space. With a final desperate twist, Nicholas got his arm free and clamped both hands on the other’s throat, and put his knee on his chest. Gasping for breath and dizzy with the effort, he was distantly aware of the train sliding away into the darkness. But as he reinforced his grip, he was only too aware of the sound of the train gathering speed and could see the cloud of sparks and steam moving further and further into the distance._


	7. Playing Traitor.

_The train was a distant and diminishing rattle along the tracks. With the light from the train gone and only the half moonlight to see by, Nicholas’ eyes adjusted slowly to the dark. The man he was pinning down moved both hands in a gesture of submission. Cautiously he lifted his own hands from the others’ neck and rocked back gently, lightening his weight on the man’s chest. He reached for his knife and held it pointed at his assailant’s chest, ready for him to spring again. The man spread his hands out further, palms upwards._   
_Nicholas slowly stood up, but remained braced for attack._   
_Deliberately, and with exaggerated care, the other man moved stiffly into a sitting position._   
_“You have an admirable amount of fight in you, Nicholas Brenzaida.” His voice drawled, sardonic and amused._   
_Nicholas stared at him, unspeaking. With careful nonchalance the stranger stood up, and made a mocking bow, before retreating a step or two._   
_“You’ve never met me. But one of your former companions may have mentioned my name. I had the pleasure of meeting your - ‘friend’ - Lieutenant Almeda.”_   
_Nicholas waited, still without speaking._   
_“Captain Navarre. From the Gaaldine Intelligence Service.”_   
_“Intelligence?”_   
_“You’re right. Our full title is the Reconnaissance and Interrogation Force. But ‘intelligence’ is certainly an asset when people are helping us with our enquiries.”_   
_Nicholas stiffened at the sarcasm in his voice. “Rupert was right. Anyone sensible would do as he did.”_   
_“Is that so?” purred Navarre. Nicholas took a quick step towards him, and held the knife threateningly close._   
_Navarre laughed. “No, my young friend. You have nothing to fear from me. Please remove your weapon from my throat. It’s not conducive to good relations.”_   
_Nicholas lowered his knife, and stepped back, but remained tense and alert._   
_“As it turned out, your friend was useless to us,” Navarre continued. “He completely failed to remove Jason, and Angora were warned of our plans. We’ve had to leave Angora alone for now, and concentrate on Exina instead.” He grinned at Nicholas’ studied lack of expression. “Oh, now you’re wondering what lies ahead for your little friends on the train?”_   
_Navarre waited for an answer, his dark brows raised and a curious look in his eyes, but Nicholas stared stonily back. Navarre gave up. “There are - of course - patrols out looking for the missing Jason. My own men are lying in wait - but they won’t move without my order. As far as I know no-one else is aware that they’re returning by train. The city is surrounded by Gaaldine troops. So far the city has held out against the siege, but with both the young King and the Regent away, there’s no-one to instill the necessary spirit of resistance. I think you’ll find the ordinary folk don’t much care who rules them as long as they’re left alone. And Gaaldine’s terms will be more than reasonable towards those who do not resist.”_   
_“The Regent is away?”_   
_“Indeed. That’s where you and I come in.”_   
_“You and I?”_   
_Navarre grinned wolfishly. “Yes, you and I. It seems I too can play at being a traitor.”_

“Peter!”  
“Yes, it’s your kind brother Peter to the rescue once again.”  
“What do you mean, _again?_ And what were you doing leaving _Gondal_ saved on your computer? I thought you’d got rid of it yonks ago?”  
“It seemed best to leave it alone,” admitted Peter. “And anyway, I never _thought_ you lot would come crashing into my room to play around on it without so much as a by your leave.”  
“Never mind ‘us lot’. Me and Lal were just looking for Ginty, then the Dodds came looking for Sam.”  
“The Dodds - what, _all_ of them?”  
“Not Fob, just Rose and Chas.”  
“So Ginty started it all up again. What did the stupid gal do that for, might one ask, or can I guess?”  
“It depends what you’re guessing,” said Nicola gruffly, seeing no need to protect Ginty from scorn, but equally reluctant to discuss Ginty-and-Patrick with Peter.  
“Well, if she thinks things are going to start up again with Patrick - _Rupert_ \- she can think again. All that bosom companion stuff between Crispian and Rupert won’t help her.”  
“She’s not here as Crispian.”  
“She never played anyone else?”  
Seeing no help for it, Nicola explained all over again, not liking it any more than the first time.  
When she’d finished, Peter gave a soft whistle and shook his head. “Eh, it du be summat terr-ble what ye wicked critters put us poor fellers through - “  
“Not _now_ , Peter.”  
“Well, you wouldn’t catch _me_ playing _Gondal_ with a girl - and no more will Patrick any more, I shouldn’t think. Believe me, the scales have well and truly fallen…”  
Peter said this with evident relish, and Nicola felt uncomfortable. Not that she _wanted_ to feel sorry for Ginty, but still - it _was_ beastly, knowing that someone you still liked had gone off you. She didn’t suppose it had ever happened to Ginty before - not like she’d done herself to Unity Logan.  
She said hastily, “Is Patrick here too?”  
“Nope. We came back from Colebridge on the bus together, but he said he had to get home to see to Regina. So it’s just me to the rescue.”  
“Huh. Why’ve you come back as Navarre then?”  
“Because I swore I’d never be Mal - because if I’m going to be a - I don’t know - it’s just how I ended up, okay?”  
“Alright, no need to bite my head off. I don’t care who anyone is as long as we can get out of here.”  
“Well it just so happens that I have a brilliant plan…”

_“So what do you intend to do?” asked Nicholas, still suspicious but lowering his guard slightly._   
_“Tell me, Nicholas Brenzaida, has no one ever commented on your resemblance to your King?”_   
_“My what?”_   
_“You’re almost a perfect double! Certainly as far as most people are concerned - especially people who’ve only ever seen poorly copied paintings.” He cast Nicholas a sly look. “I suppose you do know who your father was?”_   
_“What’s this got to do with anything? It’s neither here nor there who I look like!”_   
_“But it’s all part of my plan. Now tell me - do you consider Jason reliable? Trustworthy?”_   
_“Of course! He’s my King!”_   
_“He’s young. He sees himself as brave, dashing no doubt. But can he be relied upon to carry though a plan without mishap? I don’t think so.”_   
_“You don’t know that.”_   
_“Yes, I do. He tried to escape the Regent once before, and as I recall, all his loyal companions came to a very nasty end.”_   
_“He was betrayed!”_   
_“Can you be sure? It would only have taken the smallest of mistakes to alert the Regent to what was going on - a tactless sentence blurted out - a lazy omission in dress or preparation - you know the sort of slip that someone - ‘impulsive’ - might make.”_   
_Nicholas frowned, seeing how it might have been. “So what do you suggest we do?”_   
_“The train is travelling at not much more than foot pace. We arrive back at the city well before it. You rally the troops and lead them out against the Gaaldine forces. They have been besieging the city for months, they are bored and slack and ill disciplined. They won’t be expecting an attack. I will guide you to the most effective place to direct your best troops.”_   
_“Why would you betray Gaaldine?”_   
_Navarre mused, his dark brows drawn into a quizzical v. “Let’s just assume it will amuse me,” he said at last._   
_“But you might get caught by your own side. Or killed by us. Would that be amusing?”_   
_“Yes, even then. It’s a risk I’m willing to take - otherwise, life is so infinitely dull, don’t you think?”_   
_“No. I don’t think life is dull at all. There must be more reason than that!”_   
_Again Navarre seemed to look into himself, before sighing. “No. No, I really don’t think there is more.” He looked up at last, and smiled derisively at the expression on Nicholas’ face. “You could never understand.” It was a statement, not a question._   
_“No, I don’t,” said Nicholas, bluntly. “ And how am I supposed to trust any plan of yours?”_   
_“You’re not. You’ll have to trust your own instinct. I could have killed you by now if I’d wanted to. And what else are you going to do - walk back to Exina on your own?”_   
_“How are we going to get back to Exina? Have you got horses?”_   
_Navarre grinned. “Oh, much better than horses. Come with me.” He moved cautiously, with a slow beckoning gesture._   
_Nicholas’ hand tightened again on his knife. Navarres’ eyebrows rose._   
_“I will walk ahead of you. You follow ten paces behind - or whatever makes you feel comfortable. As you can see, the dawn is coming.” He waved a hand airily, indicating the dove grey glimmer leaching into the sky. “But time is of the essence now. You must decide quickly.”_   
_Nicholas nodded. “Very well. I will come with you.” He sheathed his knife, and shrugged his cloak further round him._   
_And without a word, Navarre turned and led the way into the lifting darkness._


	8. Up In The Air.

_The first light was spilling over the horizon as they walked so that Nicholas was able to pick out the features of trees and rocks. But the shape that filled the skyline directly before them was like nothing he’d ever seen before._   
_He’d seen a sketch of a whale once, and the thing that loomed ahead of him had the shape and size that he imagined a whale would have, but it seemed to be somehow suspended above a long oblong shape rather like a boat._   
_It could have been a contraption out of a dream, or a mad artist’s invention. Even as the dawn gilded the shape with reflections of silver and pearly pink, it made no sense to Nicholas._   
_“What is it?”_   
_“Welcome aboard my air ship!”_   
_“Your airship?” repeated Nicholas, not understanding._   
_“Ah, I always forget how backward Exina is,” said Navarre. “Not helped, I’m sure, by the Regent disapproving of anything modern and having all the inventors exiled or put to death.”_   
_“Does he?” asked Nicholas._   
_“Oh yes. He’s well known for having a violent aversion to anything that’s new or innovative. But in Gaaldine we’ve been using these for some time. Excellent for reconnaissance of course, and travel. We haven’t yet mastered their possibilities in warfare, you’ll be glad to know.”_   
_“But what does it do?”_   
_“It flies. Or floats on the air, perhaps, given that nothing actually flaps. This is the best time to travel, incidentally; the first hour of the day is when the wind is calmest and there’s the least turbulence.”_   
_“You mean we go in it?”_   
_“Indeed. What’s the matter - are you afraid?” Navarre asked pleasantly. “I assure you it’s perfectly safe.”_   
_“Very well,” said Nicholas, ignoring Navarre’s teasing tone. “How -where - do I get in?”_   
_“Just climb in. The bigger ones have doors and seats and you can travel in style, but I couldn’t have used one of them without explanation. This is my own personal craft.”_   
_The ‘boat’ was made out of what appeared to be a strong wicker work, lined with soft leather. At one end was a perplexing array of machinery, dials and levers._   
_The sides were chest height. Nicholas watched as Navarre unfastened one of the ropes that moored the contraption. The basket jerked and shifted alarmingly. It occurred to Nicholas that it would be all too easy for Navarre to loosen all the ropes and simply let go, leaving him to be taken up into the sky and away. A sudden irrational fear that that indeed was what Navarre planned to do gripped him, and he almost called out. But Navarre, glancing at him, seemed to read his mind because his customary sardonic smile flickered across his face, and Nicholas kept silent._   
_Navarre climbed into the basket too, and leaned out to slash through the last rope with a heavy knife that he pulled out from under his cloak._   
_Doubts assailed Nicholas once more - he was now trapped in a very enclosed space with someone who was well known to be cruel and sadistic. To hide his fear, he concentrated on looking out, while Navarre managed the machinery of the air ship._   
_The ascent was so smooth that he was surprised to realise that they were already some way off the ground. They rose higher, and Nicholas couldn’t restrain a gasp of pure amazement._   
_The sun had risen above the horizon and all the colours of day flooded the landscape below them. It was truly like being a bird, thought Nicholas, like a falcon who climbs so high that they become a dot in the eyes of the grounded falconer. He could see all of Gondal mapped out below. They had traveled a long way south on the train, but from the air he could still see the mountains of the North in the far distance, the sunlight shining on the snow covered foothills that surrounded them. Directly below were the fertile plains where nomadic tribesmen tended the cattle and horses. A herd of horses, no bigger than mice when seen from up here, scattered as the shadow of the airship passed over them._   
_He thought the ship must be travelling fast, even though there was no motion, because he could see the first farms and enclosed fields of Exina already, the hedges, barns and houses looking like the toys he’d played with in his nursery days._   
_With some reluctance, he realised the journey would have to end - and yet, how wonderful it would be to stay up here, leaning on the edge of the basket, chin propped on folded arms, gazing at the world from above, encircled with the clear blue of the morning sky in all directions ….._

“Nick! Nick! Did you hear me?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Have you thought about what you’ll say to rally the troops and all that?”  
“Peter - don’t you think you should stay in character for this bit?”  
“Whatever do you mean?”  
“Well, don’t you?”  
“ _Fine_. Don’t take my help then. Only it’ll be a lot more than gee-ing up the netball team to thrash St Mildred’s B team, you know.”  
“Ok,” said Nicola with exaggerated calm, swallowing both anxiety and irritation. “What do you suggest?”  
“Well, we did Henry V last term. There’s a lot of good stuff in that.”  
“Oh, yes. Lawrie and I saw the film. I don’t know though - “ (Peter’s face was taking on a rather green hue.) “Peter!”  
“What?”  
“Let’s just get on with it, shall we? I’ll worry about what to say when we get there.”

_Exina came into view, its white walls dazzling in the sun. Nicholas peered intently, seeing the forces of Gaaldine encamped on the slopes around the city. It looked peaceful from up here, the horse lines spread out behind the companies, rows of tents with pennants fluttering gaily above them, trickles of smoke from campfires, and closest to the walls the great siege machines standing idle. He was relieved to see that they had not made much impact on the walls yet; but the walls of Exina were famously made of marble, their smooth hard shine resistant to attack from without._   
_“I need to know a good place to land,” said Navarre, breaking into Nicholas’ reverie. “Somewhere in the city where there’s open space.”_   
_“There’s the Royal Park, around the Palace,” suggested Nicholas._   
_“Describe it to me.”_   
_“Mostly grass. There’s an avenue of trees on both sides though, and a small lake - a glorified fish pond really. The Regent collects exotic carp.”_   
_Nicholas wondered exactly how their flying machine landed. He looked at the canopy above their heads, which reminded him of a great silvery fish. Navarre seemed to be able to make adjustments which steered it - he’d been pulling at ropes and levers much as a sailor handled a ship. There was a constant soft whirr from the whirling blades at the back of their air-boat which he assumed kept them going. But how were they supposed to go down? They were sailing high over the wall now, and he could see the rows of narrow streets that made up the poorer districts of the city giving way to the wider boulevards and open spaces of the upper town._   
_“Here,” said Navarre, pulling something out of a basket at his feet. “Put these on. You’ll need to give them a show.”_   
_He handed Nicholas a thin golden coronet and a purple dyed cloak lined with white fur. Nicholas slid the coronet onto his head, where it felt surprisingly light and comfortable, and swapped his own travel soiled cloak for the new one. It was gloriously rich and soft._   
_“There,” said Navarre, sounding pleased. “You look like you were born to it. No one will question you.”_   
_The Royal Park was in view - a square of green amid the spires and roofs of the city, and just beyond it, the steeper walls and towers of the Palace._   
_Looking ahead, he and Navarre spotted movement at the same time. Something strange was perched on the highest point of the Palace - a tall, narrow tower with an observation post at the very top, with a steeply pitched circular roof._   
_“What on earth is that?” Navarre asked, the puzzlement in his voice displacing his usual cynical composure._   
_“I’ve no idea!” Whatever it was, it was big, because they could see the shape of it clearly from a distance. Its body must have been the size of a large horse, but it was some sort of unreal animal - like a lion or tiger in shape - but with enormous folded wings sprouting from its back. Nicholas had of course seen pictures of dragons in his childhood story books - but everyone knew that they weren’t real. Even the most fanciful of travelling minstrels never claimed to have seen one. But if he hadn’t known it couldn’t be true, he would have said this must be a dragon._   
_Rays of sun struck its scales. It was a blotchy combination of orange, red and black - like a tabby cat, but a cat from a nightmare. It tried to turn on the sloping roof of the tower and lost its footing; its wings flapped frantically as its claws tried to grip on the slippery tiles. It fell, but spreading its wings turned the fall into flight._   
_Navarre suddenly gasped. He abandoned his controls, and leaned over the edge of the basket, calling “Puss! Here, puss, puss!”_

“What are you doing?”  
“Can’t you see? It’s Fob! She’s terrified!”

_The beast flew above the rooftops below and then laboriously gained height; flying with jerky beats of its enormous wings. It circled above the city, swinging its long neck from side to side and opening its savage reptilian mouth to emit piercing cries._   
_“Puss, puss, come on, good puss!” called Navarre._   
_At last the beast seemed to hear him. Its snaky head looked straight at them; and it roared with joy. At least, Nicholas assumed it was joy - the plaintive quality of the noises it had been making had changed to a full-throated hot blast of wind. As it flew closer he could see that its dark eyes had something strangely human about them -_   
_“It’s going to hit us!” he shouted a warning to Navarre. The cat-dragon was aiming straight for them. At the very last moment it seemed to realise its mistake and swerved. The edge of its wing caught the basket and they were thrown violently off their feet as the basket rocked._   
_“We have to land!”_   
_The beast, unfamiliar with its wings, took time to turn and circle back. Nicholas and Navarre regained their feet and Navarre grabbed the controls. Nicholas, watching the beast climb higher on its return flight saw too late what it was trying to do._   
_“It’s going to land on the canopy!” Its enormous clawed feet were stretching out to clutch, grab and finally, fatefully rip into the material that held the gas that kept them aloft. There were several rending sounds, the basket plunged, once, twice and then they were free falling. Nicholas, catching at the edge of the basket as they plummeted, saw only that they were above deep green water, before a final violent twist threw him off and he plunged into the ornamental fish pond._


	9. The Enemy At The Gates.

_Water filled his mouth, his nose, his lungs; pressed heavily on his limbs which were feeble and slow to respond. There was a bursting feeling in his chest; a dizzying darkness in his sight. The cloak was dragging him down, and with the last of his consciousness he tried to wrench at the clasp that held its deadly weight around his neck, but the pressure of the water weakened his movements, made his efforts futile. If he could just kick towards the light - greenish and broken, but it showed him which way was up ….._   
_A vast claw broke the surface and he felt himself lifted. Sunlight and air broke over him. He hung helplessly, like a drowned kitten, from the dragon-cat’s great paw as it waded to the edge of the lake, and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, retching and gasping as water poured out of him. He breathed greedily, gulping in air. As the pain in his lungs subsided and his chest stopped heaving he slowly became aware of his surroundings._   
_Navarre was already standing on the grass, trying to rebuff the dragon’s manifestations of delight. It was alternating between trying to butt its vast forehead against his chest and bounding round him wagging its long scaly tail; both of which threatened to send him flying back into the lake._   
_“Steady on, old girl! Yes, yes, I’m pleased to see you too, but gently. You’ve just given us a hell of a shock.” The dragon made a rumbling noise deep in its chest, then exhaled a long blast of hot air. Navarre’s clothes steamed._   
_“She fished you out of the soup first then,” observed Nicholas._   
_“But of course,” replied Navarre, sounding as smug as it was possible for someone to sound whilst also being soaking wet from head to toe. “Now, if you’ve quite finished spluttering, I think you need to say something to this lot as soon as possible. Our arrival has not gone unnoticed.”_   
_Nicholas looked up, wondering what Navarre meant, and saw, coming at them from all sides, several hundred men from Exina’s Royal Armed Forces. They were approaching at a brisk trot across the parkland, fully armed, and - Nicholas recognised the colours - wearing the insignia of Exina’s most crack units. They drew up in a neat semi-circle a spear’s length away._   
_The dragon-cat faced them four-square and roared. Nicholas was proud to see that although a visible quiver rippled through the ranks of men, none of them so much as took a step back. He heard an order shouted, and the front row lifted their spears, aiming them straight at the beast._   
_“Say something!” hissed Navarre._   
_Nicholas rose stiffly to his feet, shaking the water out of his hair, and discovered to his surprise that the coronet was still on his head. A faint murmur ran through the waiting ranks._

(‘Not Henry V,’ thought Nicola. ‘This is Edward, returning to claim his throne.’)

_Nicholas unclasped his cloak, which heavy with water and dripping down his legs made him feel distinctly un-regal, then pulled the coronet out of his wet hair and held it high in both hands. He took a bold stride forward, towards the wall of spear points. “The crown has returned!”_   
_“The King!” cried a voice, and the cry was taken up by the others. “The King!”_   
_More orders were shouted and the spears that had been levelled at them were returned to an upright position. The army saluted._   
_“We are here to free Exina and drive the enemy from the gate!” shouted Nicholas. “The beast is on our side. This is Navarre the dragon-master, who will guide her. Only the enemies of Exina need fear her!”_   
_A low cheer rippled through the lines of men. They weren’t entirely certain, thought Nicholas, and who could blame them?_   
_“We are going to open the gates,” he shouted. “The dragon and I will lead the way. By tonight we will be free, and we will feast as victors!”_

“Nick, we can’t let Fob join in. It’s not going to be safe.”  
“No, I know. Ok, Fob, _listen._ See how far away those men were? From that distance they can hurt you. They’ve got spears and arrows. You have to stay with Peter and do _exactly_ what he tells you to do. _Fob?_ Exactly what Peter says, Ok?”  
Fob growled assent.  
“Unless she flies - she’d be pretty impressive coming at them from the sky,” suggested Peter.  
“No, she’d get out of earshot too quickly. And it’s asking for trouble if she goes too low - (Nicola hesitated, not wanting to spell it out in front of Fob.) Remember what happens in ‘The Hobbit’?”  
“Unless - “ started Peter, and then stopped abruptly. “No, scrub that. Stupid idea. But she can glare at them from a safe distance. That’ll probably be enough to get them running anyway.”  
Fob growled again.  
“Ok, Fob, you stay with Peter. But when he tells you to, you can roar and flap your wings, and breathe fire. And you can rear up on your back legs and look scary. And if all the people are running away, you can pretend to run after them, but not too close. You have to stay with Peter _all_ the time, whatever happens.”

_Navarre waited at a distance, conversing amiably with the dragon-cat, while Nicholas called out the officers for a briefing. He was pleased to find that they were quick on the uptake, and ready for action, having been living in siege conditions for some time._   
_He was still wet through, and couldn’t restrain a slight shiver. One eager young captain offered him his own cloak; which he refused, thanking the man but saying that ‘he would be warm enough once they were in battle’. They liked that and laughed approvingly._   
_Runners were soon busy with messages and orders for the other troops in the city; a sword for the King, and spare weapons were sent for from the Palace Armoury._   
_Then, to a full-throated chorus of cheers, they were marching to the city gates._

_Nicholas, sword drawn, stood in the middle of the shield wall behind the solid oak doors. The well-oiled bolts slid back without a squeak, and the great timber barrier swung open. Nicholas gave the order and his line of men marched forward, stopping just clear of the gateway. The frontline of the Gaaldine troops was over a spear’s throw away, out of reach of any defender on the walls. Through the visor of his helmet, Nicholas could see that none of the men facing them were ready to fight. They had not been expecting the gate to open, nor soldiers to march out. Nor were they expecting what happened next._   
_The line of men split neatly to both left and right, parting to reveal the beast. The dragon stood framed in the gateway. With an ear-splitting roar, she stood on her hind-legs and spread her wings. A great burst of fire exploded from her bellowing gape._   
_Nicholas was just aware of Navarre next to the beast, urging her on, but now he and his men had to concentrate on their part of the plan. As the dragon plunged and paraded, snarling and spitting fire, he gave the war-cry and the front line started their advance towards the enemy. The waiting lines of men poured out the city behind him, fanning out as they ran down the slope._   
_The first men of Gaaldine, gaping at the dragon, fumbling at weapons, were cut down in the first surge of the Exina charge. Others, quicker off the mark, turned and fled, some to the horse lines, others to arm themselves and regroup. But Nicholas’ troops had their orders; each unit aimed for one of the Senior Officer’s tents, where (as Navarre had assured him) they were making a leisurely breakfast. Within moments, all the senior Gaaldine commanders were surrounded and facing a bristling circle of spears._

  
_Nicholas was in the thick of the fight against the best of the Gaaldine troops. They had withdrawn into a defensive square on the higher ground occupied by one of the siege engines, and formed a shield wall. Behind them was a mound of ammunition ready to be catapulted over the city walls, stones of all sizes, rocks and chunks of bone. These missiles came flying over the front row of those in the shield wall as Nicholas and his men closed in._   
_The air above their heads was suddenly filled with a flaming cloud of smoke and they heard the rending cry of the dragon. Fatally, the Gaaldines looked up at the hideous shape stooping down on them, and the Exinas pressed their advantage. Nicholas parried a sword thrust, stabbed with his short sword, knocked away another failing jab and found himself suddenly free and in clear space as the enemy scattered or fell all around. He spared a second to look up. The dragon was flying in vast loops over the battlefield, shooting long billows of fire wherever the fighting was thickest._   
_Where on earth was Navarre, thought Nicholas; and then saw. As the dragon turned, and its wings beat downwards, he glimpsed the figure that rode on its back. Navarre, you utter fool, he thought furiously. The figure, looking tiny at that height, seemed to be leaning forward over the beast’s neck urging it on. Nicholas could just see what looked to be a loop of something round its neck, which at least gave its rider something to hold onto._   
_But he could see that the dragon was enjoying itself too much, chasing the Gaaldine men who were scattering in defeat. The horses had been loosed from their lines and anyone who could, was mounting up and galloping away. Others were trying to slip off in each and every direction, desperate to get out of the way of the triumphant and jubilant Exina troops. Those who were caught at sword point knelt in surrender._   
_Nicholas shouted an order that anyone who surrendered was to be taken prisoner; and scanned the field, seeking anyone who was still resisting. And then he saw them - a small group, drawn together on a hillock, and with them an archer, drawing his bow and aiming up into the air._   
_The dragon swooped low across the battlefield, men running, stumbling, falling flat before it. Only the poised figure on the mound stood still, framed like a statue against the sky, ready to kill. How the stone came to his hand Nicholas never remembered; only that he was running hard and fast over tussocky grass that caught at his feet; his arm drawn back - and up and over - the stone bowled high - spinning through the air - he lost sight of it against the brightness of the blue morning - the archer at full stretch, muscles taut, about to release the bow-string - the stone at the end of its earthbound curve struck his elbow and the arrow spilled harmlessly into bare earth._   
_The dragon flew on, oblivious. Nicholas, giddy with relief and fury, watched as it soared and circled away, leaving ragged pennants of smoke trailing behind.._   
_He noticed an answering line of smoke coming over the horizon. Unlike the dragon’s breath, this was low and regular and steady. Nicholas, mind still full of battle, took a moment to register. It was the train approaching._   
_“I say, great shot, Sire!” A young lieutenant ran up who’d seen him fell the archer with the stone. “What do you want us to do with all the prisoners?”_   
_Slowly Nicholas turned to deal with the lieutenant’s question. He automatically went through the details of collecting weapons and setting guards, but his mind was elsewhere. For the first time since the fight for the city had begun, he remembered that he wasn’t really 'Sire’ - or any other title. The real King was on the train, about to disembark and return to claim his throne._

‘Tom Canty’ thought Nicola. Then following fast upon that thought - _Lawrie_ \- She’s going to be livid. How _are_ we going to explain all this?


	10. The King Returns.

_At the northern end of the city was a lesser gate, mainly used by farmers, traders and merchants. Two hundred or so yards beyond this gate the railway line from the north came to its end. Nicholas arrived at a run, just as Jason and Rosina were leading the ponies out of their box. Sammy the wolf bounded over to greet him, enormous tail wagging furiously._   
_Breathless, expecting a barrage of questions, Nicholas was surprised when Jason only said casually, “Oh, where’ve you been?”_   
_It seemed that none of them had even realised that he hadn’t been on the train since the last stop. Jason and Rosina had spent the first part of the journey discussing plans for the Coronation ceremony. “Then we may have dozed a bit,” admitted Rosina. Nicholas suspected that they had fallen fast asleep, in which case it was a good thing there hadn’t been any ambush after all._   
_Chaz and Maria emerged from the cab where they had been damping down the firebox and making all secure. They looked tired from their long shift but cheerful enough._   
_“You two could change clothes back again - if you want to,” Nicholas told Maria and Rosina. “There’s no danger now.”_   
_As briefly as he could, he explained that he’d returned with Navarre in his air-ship, that there’d been ‘some’ Gaaldine troops waiting outside the city walls, but that thanks to Navarre’s defection and the fortuitous arrival of the dragon, they had been mostly driven away._

“ _Navarre_ \- why’s _he_ helping us?” asked Ginty.  
“Navarre is Peter!” Nicola told them.  
“ _Peter’s_ here? Why isn’t he being Malise? Why didn’t he get on the train and we could have done everything together?”  
“Because he didn’t have any choice, I expect - like you being Rosina. And this way he helped get rid of the Gaaldines. The last thing we want is to get stuck in a long war here.”  
“What do you mean, a _long_ war? You said there were just a few soldiers to get rid of?” Lawrie asked suspiciously.  
“It was Fob who mostly chased them away,” said Nicola hurriedly.  
“How did _Fob_ get here?” cried Rose. “We have to take her home. The Methren will be in an awful flap!”  
“We _told_ her not to come!” said Chas crossly. “She doesn’t usually when we’re walking Sammy; she’s too slow. She always _thinks_ she wants to but then she tries to stop before we’ve even _started_ to get anywhere…”  
“She must have got up to Trennels somehow,” said Nicola. “Maybe Kay came looking for you two and brought Fob with her.”  
Rose and Chas caught each other’s eye. Both looked downcast.  
“Do you think she’ll count this as running away?” asked Rose.  
“No,” said Nicola firmly. “We’ll get back and then we’ll think what to say.”  
Lawrie interrupted, “I still don’t see why you and Peter had to go off and do everything yourselves. Why didn’t you _tell_ us?”  
“I couldn’t, could I? The train had gone before I knew what was happening.”  
“But anyway, why did Peter just get _you?”_  
“I don’t know. I suppose it was just what Navarre would do. But at least we can get on with the next bit now…”  
“But you’ve _done_ all the good stuff. It should have been _me_. I’m supposed to be the King. You and Peter are always ganging up against me - just like with the Idiot…”  
“Come off it. Lal, that’s so ancient it’s skeletons. He’s yours now, isn’t he? Practically all yours really for how often Binks rides him.”  
“That’s not the _point_. You never even _cared_ about Gondal. _You_ were the one who stopped it the first time. Then Peter. Now you’re taking over the story and leaving us out…”  
“You can _have_ your blasted story! You can ride up to claim your crown - it’s just like the Prince and the Pauper but this time you’re the Prince. Everyone will be watching - and cheering. You can do the Oath and all that.”  
“Like the prince and the who?” asked Chas.  
“I’ll explain later,” Nicola promised him. “When we get home.”  
“You’ve got to tell me all about the Brontes as well, remember. I’m not forgetting.”  
“You’d better ask Kay all about them…”

_Nicholas had abandoned his breastplate and helmet on the battlefield. He had the coronet with him, tucked under his tunic, and he presented it now to Jason. He was hoping that no-one would notice the switch between them - as long as Jason didn’t come too close to any of the soldiers who’d been nearest to him during the battle._   
_Maria and Rosina did want to change - Maria complained that Rosina’s dress had been nothing but a nuisance all night - the long, wide sleeves hopeless for working in, the filmy shawl constantly sliding off, the dress material allowing no room to move._   
_In return, Rosina snapped that she certainly did not want to make her entrance into, first the city, and then the palace, wearing frumpy peasant garb that had no more shape than a sack of potatoes.The others could see that she was worried about Rupert seeing her; but none of them spoke. If it wasn’t clear to her by now that Rupert was gone and not coming back, none of them wanted to be the ones to say it._   
_“What about the Regent?” asked Jason. “Where are we going to face him?”_   
_“He’s not here. The people are waiting for you, Sire. We can go straight into the Cathedral.”_   
_“My father’s not here?” asked Rosina, shocked. “Where has he gone?”_   
_Before Nicholas could answer -honestly - that he had no idea, all talk was stopped by a thunderous clap of wings. They struggled to stand against the wind as waves of hot air buffeted around them. Looking up, they saw the dragon struggling to land. Its great wings flapped frantically as it attempted to hover slowly downwards, sending gusts of loose dirt and small stones rattling around them.With a few metres still to reach the ground, it gave up and plummeted. Luckily its cat instincts seemed to take over as it landed on all four feet, and trotted unharmed towards Nicholas and the others. Chaz, Maria, Rosina and Jason all stood gaping. Sammy whimpered, ears flat to his head and tail tucked miserably between his legs._   
_“It’s alright,” Nicholas told the others quickly. “It’s safe. Sam, it won’t hurt you.” Sammy, unconvinced, tried and failed to make himself invisible behind Nicholas._   
_As the beast halted, Navarre slid down over its neck, looking very pleased with himself. Jason stepped forward, sword drawn. “What do you think you’re doing?”_   
_“I rather think I was saving your kingdom!” said Navarre. He bowed towards Jason with an exaggerated flourish._   
_“Under whose orders? I am the King here!”_   
_“Indeed. And the way is now clear for your Coronation. Shall we - “_   
_“You had no right! How can we trust you? You work for Gaaldine!”_   
_“Not today I’m not,” replied Navarre. “The Gaaldines are prisoners or on the run. This wonderful beast has done most of the job, it’s true. You should consider putting a dragon on your coat of arms in commemoration..”_   
_“I don’t need you telling me what to do! Nicholas, Chaz, Navarre will walk between you two. Treat him as a prisoner until we reach the Palace.”_   
_The dragon gave a deep huff. Its sulphurous breath rolled over them._   
_“Have no fear,” said Navarre to the beast . “I’ll walk very quietly, just as they like. But if they do anything to me, feel free to eat them.”_   
_“There’s no need for this -” said Nicholas, impatiently. “Navarre is on our side, Jason. Let’s catch the ponies and get on!”_   
_The ponies had galloped away at the first sight of the dragon, and were now standing at some distance, snorting suspiciously. While Navarre and the dragon were getting acquainted with Chaz and Maria, Nicholas helped Jason and Rosina catch them. Remembering Maria’s idea, Nicholas talked to them as they approached. “The beast won’t hurt you. I know it looks ferocious, but it’s on our side. We just want to ride you up to the Palace, then you can go into the best paddock for a nice rest…” Their ears flicked, listening. They allowed Jason and Rosina to take hold of their bridles without any fuss, and waited patiently to be mounted._   
_Jason paused before riding off. “If the Regent has gone, do we even have to have the Coronation today?”_   
_“Why ever not?” asked Nicholas._   
_“A few days would give everyone time to rehearse. It could be much better.”_   
_“Who needs to rehearse?”_   
_“We could have a choir to sing - I could work on my speech - “_   
_“No, Sire. With all due respect, we need to send a message that you’re back, and you’re in charge.”_   
_“I suppose so,” said Jason, reluctantly._   
_“Maybe you could hold some sort of official celebration later? Street parties for the citizens? You could give your speech then,” suggested Nicholas consolingly._   
_They decided that the dragon would lead the way, with Chaz and Maria on either side, followed by Nicholas and Navarre and Sammy, then riding on the ponies, at a distance calculated to give the gathering crowds time to see them and cheer, Rosina and Jason._   
_But as they set off Rosina urged her pony to jog on and catch up with Navarre._

“ _Peter!_ Where’s Patrick?” Ginty asked.  
“At home, tucking his birdies up in bed. Least - that’s where he said he was going.”  
“Oh. But he might come over later maybe?” she suggested hopefully.  
“I don’t see why. We didn’t arrange anything.”  
“Sometimes he does though, doesn’t he? After dinner?”  
“Not a chance,” said Peter, bluntly. “Honestly, Gin, _forget_ about it -”  
Goodness, but this was _grim_ , thought Nicola. An image flitted through her memory - Marie Dobson finding out that they’d none of them told her about the netball switch and _minding_ \- and letting all them _see_ that she minded. But that was Marie - _Ginty_ trying to sound careless and casual - and failing - was even more gruesome …..  
“ - He did say about having loads of revision to do this hols. It was only Regina being too high to fly today that gave him time to come to the flicks with me. His Pa’s got him keeping his nose to the grindstone for his resits,” said Peter, embarrassed into a kindly deflection.  
“Oh. But he might fancy a walk or something. Did you tell him what I said about revising together if he wanted?”  
Peter hesitated. “No. I’m not your messenger boy. And if you think Patrick’s going to come rushing over to go over Latin O Level with you, you must be out of your -”  
“Binks!” intervened Nicola. “Stop it, Gin. We’ll get out of the game much quicker without Patrick coming along to be the Regent - or anyone else.”  
“Will we?” Feeling exposed, Ginty snapped at them. “I don’t see _how_. I don’t see how we finish anything at all without Rupert or the Regent. It was Patrick who started - _everything_. He should at least come and end it properly!”


	11. Desperate Measures.

_The late afternoon sun filtering through the stained glass windows cast oblongs of dappled colour onto the cathedral floor. Dust motes caught the golden light and floated in the air, sent in lazy circles by the shifting of the waiting audience._   
_The news had spread fast throughout the city, and a good crowd had pressed into the cathedral to see the boy king returned and crowned. There were enough eyes watching and ears to listen to please Jason; and to require him to declaim the oaths in a loud, clear voice, to carry to the furthest corner of the echoing space. The Bishop held aloft the Coronation Crown - solid gold and encrusted with priceless jewels - before carefully lowering it onto the head of the kneeling King. Nicholas, from his vantage point in the side chapel, where he kept himself out of view and kept Sammy quiet, could see Jason stiffen his shoulders at the unexpected weight. Slowly, as much to avoid the crown wobbling as to appear dignified, Jason rose to his feet and turned to face the waiting people. The crowd gave a collective sigh of relief and approval, which grew to a murmur and then a crescendo of cheers and applause._   
_The King was home, and in charge. He spoke to them, promising to repeal any unjust laws brought in by the Regent, and to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity. For now, he told them, he had ordered a new play to be commissioned and whole hogs to be roasted on every street to celebrate his safe return._   
_Navarre had stayed outside with the dragon. They lolled in a sunny corner of the square that lay between cathedral and palace. The dragon, at its most cat-like, lay at full stretch, contentedly purring, while Navarre, half dozing, leaned back comfortably against its furry back._   
_Trumpets sounded; the King processed out into the square; Rosina, Maria and Chaz unobtrusive in the group of courtiers around the King. Nicholas slipped out of a side entrance; separately they made their way across, while people pouring out of the cathedral milled cheerfully around in the space before the Palace._   
_They gathered in the great Palace forecourt, while the crowd outside slowly dispersed to their own various homes and dinner tables._

“What _now?_ ” asked Chas. “You said Lawrie getting crowned was going to end the game. So why hasn’t it?”  
“I told you,” snapped Ginty. “We need Patrick. It’s not going to end without him.”  
Nicola, feeling fairly panicked herself, caught sight of Rose’s face. _Damn_ Ginty. “It’s alright,” she said, in what she hoped was a voice of calm. “We’re bound to find another way.”  
“We’ve got to have a proper feast to celebrate my return,” said Lawrie cheerfully. “Let’s do that. And there’s all those prisoners to punish. And I need to decide what sort of play I want to have written - “

_“Let’s eat,” said Nicholas. “None of us has had anything since last night. Let’s go into the banqueting hall - there’s room for the dragon in there - and the cooks can bring us whatever they’ve got.”_   
_Jason offered Rosina his arm, and led the way into the long hall. Servants ran to bring pitchers of mead, baskets of fresh bread and platters of cold meats and cheese. They all sat round the high table on the raised platform at the top of the hall, with the benches removed from one end to give the dragon room to sit.. The servants, carrying in bowls full of raw meat for Sammy and the dragon, cast wary eyes at both beasts, who sat at opposite ends of the table._   
_“We should have music!” cried Jason, raising his hand to signal to a servant. Rosina rose to her feet, muttering that she needed to freshen up, and would tell them on her way. After a brief moment, they heard a merry tune being played from the musician’s gallery above._   
_They were hungry enough at first to pay close attention only to their food. When after some time had passed,Jason said, “Why hasn’t Rosina returned?” they all looked around guiltily, having not yet wondered about how long she was being._   
_“I expect she’s just taking ages in the bathroom,” suggested Chaz. “You know what girls are like.”_   
_“Too right,” agreed Navarre. “Always keeping a gentleman waiting.”_   
_Nicholas frowned, chiding himself for the uneasy thoughts that had sprung to mind. She could only be somewhere in the Palace, and hadn’t had time to come to any harm -_   
_Still, pointless to just sit and wonder._   
_“If Maria will come with me, we’ll go and check,” he said, pushing aside goblet and trencher. Maria, and Sammy, followed him out of the room._   
_Neither of them knew their way around the palace but one of the first doorways they went through led to a bathroom. Rosina wasn’t in it. Nicholas ran on, putting his head through every door. Maria did the same, and Sammy bounded ahead and around them, enjoying this new game. Rosina was nowhere to be found._   
_“Where’s her own room - her bedroom?” asked Maria at last. “That’s the most likely place.”_   
_“Of course. We’ll have to ask Jason where she and the Regent lived.”_   
_On their way back to the dining hall, they met the others already coming to look for them, so it was as a large group that they followed Jason up several wide flights of stairs. They came to a spiral staircase._   
_“This goes up to the top of the tower - the Regent has a suite of rooms up there. I think the dragon should wait here - it gets more narrow further up - and Navarre, you too,” ordered Jason._   
_They climbed the stairs to a circular landing with doors and more stairs, and climbed again. When it seemed that they could climb no more, they came to an arched doorway. The door was ajar but it seemed polite to let Maria knock and enter first. But they heard her cry out in alarm as she entered so they all pushed in after her._   
_At the far side of the room was a tall, arched window, about the height of, and twice the width of a standing person. The arch was divided by widely spaced vertical iron bars; not close enough together to prevent a person wriggling through. The window ledge was broad - and Rosina was standing on it, outside the bar which she held onto lightly with one outstretched hand, her robe and shawl billowing in the breeze which blew around the turret walls. Before their horrified eyes she lifted herself on tiptoe and seemed to lean over the giddy space below._

“Ginty! Don’t!”  
“What are you doing? Don’t be so bloody stupid!”  
“You mustn’t!”  
“This is what worked last time!” Ginty hissed at them.  
“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Lawrie.  
“Patrick! He held the gun to his head - he was about to pull the trigger - and Nick stopped him. That finished the whole Gondal!”  
“That was different! You can’t possibly know it will work like that a second time,” objected Nicola. “What if - what if it doesn’t work?”  
“Please _don’t,_ ” begged a horrified Rose, almost in tears.  
“Why would you even do it? You haven’t been caught as a traitor like Patrick was?” asked Lawrie. “Everything’s pretty good for us here.”  
“Except for _Rupert!_ Rosina _can’t_ live without him - he’s her life!”  
“Oh, nonsense,” said Nicola, impatiently.  
“I suppose that is quite good,” said Lawrie, considering. “Like Juliet killing herself for that goop Romeo. It’s a good Gondalish thing to happen - “  
“ _No!”_ said Nicola. “It’s ridiculous!. We’re not going to risk it!”

_“Rosina!” cried Maria. “Please - don’t!”_   
_Nicholas crossed the room in two swift steps._   
_Rosina’s face was streaked with tears. “Tell Rupert - if you ever see him again - tell him that I loved him - that I loved him too well to live without him!”_   
_“You can’t - don’t be a fool!”_   
_Several things happened at once. Nicholas reached the window - Rosina’s velvet slippers slid on a smooth bit of stone - a gust of wind blew her shawl into her face - her feet stepped into empty space - her one hand still holding on slipped treacherously - she screamed in sudden genuine fear - her shawl snagged on the window bar - for a split second all her weight hung from the shawl - and Nicholas grabbed her arm._   
_She dangled desperately. Nicholas lay across the window, where the sudden weight of her fall had thrown him. He braced his legs, feeling the ache of his arms, the scrape on his stomach as he was slowly pulled across the rough edge of the window ledge. Then the relief of Jason grabbing him, enough to stop the slide, and Chaz beside him at the window, also reaching to catch hold of Rosina’s hand._   
_Maria had let out a startled yell at the moment Ginty dropped; she stood now with her hand over her mouth in horror. They could hear footsteps running up the stairs, and Navarre’s voice calling, “No Puss, you wait there! Stay!” clearly to no avail, as the clatter of claws on the stone steps and the heavy breathing of a large creature galumphing up the stairs could be heard following his footsteps._   
_Chaz had managed to grab Rosina’s flailing hand. Jason took a firmer hold of Nicholas’s waist. By all pulling together, they managed to get Rosina’s shoulders as high as the window ledge. “All the way now,” gasped Nicholas with his remaining breath. He was horribly aware that the window bar against which his shoulder was pressing was rusty and there were cracks on the window ledge which were crumbling into dust as their combined weight rocked them._   
_Navarre hurried into the room, the dragon close behind. The dragon almost filled the room, throwing Maria against the wall as she fumbled in her pouch. Rosina, hanging over the terrible drop, cried out in utter panic, “Get me up!” The others gave a great heave, which would have pulled her safely over the ledge, only at that moment the dragon, over-excited, and panicking at the lack of space, sent Navarre sprawling into Chaz, who stumbled and lost his grip. The dragon thrashed again, the point of its scaly wing hitting Jason in the back of his head so that he reeled, half-concussed. Nicholas, the only one left hanging onto Rosina, felt the hot breath of the dragon scald his scalp, felt his hands slippery and weakening, felt Rosina sliding out of his grasp …_   
_And Maria, crushed against the wall by the dragon’s hind-quarters, finally wriggled her arm free, lifted her golden horn to her lips and blew - with all of the breath she had in her - one long summoning note._


	12. Home For Tea.

Nicola was crushed; Ginty was squirming beneath her, squeaking in a muffled sort of way, and Lawrie and Chas both lay across her, pinning her down.  
“Goodness. What _are_ you all doing?” said a voice. An amused but elderly voice, ready to be indulgent at the children’s games. “Chas, Lawrie, get _off_ Nicola will you? Can’t you see you’re squashing Ginty?”  
Ann stood gazing down at the pile of them on the floor, blinking and slowly rolling off each other. Shakily they got to their feet, tugging at dishevelled clothing.  
“Oh good, you _have_ got Fob with you,” said Ann, still unflappably calm and cheerful - normal, everyday Ann - “Chas, Rose. Kay came looking for you, then Fob disappeared. I said you’d be bound to be wherever Peter was. You’re all staying to tea by the way, Mrs Bertie’s just doing an extra batch of scones.”  
Chas was the first to speak. Astonished, he said, “You mean it’s only tea-time?”  
“Yes, and there’s cherry cake as well,” said Ann indulgently, knowing Chas’s appetite. “You’d better go and get cleaned up. You’re all dusty, rolling around on the floor like that. What on earth were you all _doing?_ ”  
They were silent. Ann, puzzled, surveyed their faces with grown-up mystification.  
“It was a _game -_ ” “We were playing -” Rose and Chas both spoke at once. Peter, inspiration striking, said “We were playing Sardines.”  
“ _Goodness_! We haven’t played that for _years_.”  
“Rose and Chas never had. We were showing them how it worked,” Peter elaborated hastily. At his elbow, Fob growled. “Yes, and Fob too. And - and Ginty had hidden under the desk in here, you see.”  
“Oh. Because I came looking for Fob, and as I came through the yard, I heard - well, it sounded like a _horn_ blowing - really close. I didn’t think it could be the Hunt this late in the year, and it sounded as if it came from this direction.” She looked round the room. “I wondered if you’d got one of Great-Uncle Lawrence’s horns and were messing around with it in here.”  
“Perish the thought,” said Lawrie virtuously, who had indeed often fancied taking down one of the ancient curly horns that hung on the panelled walls in the study.  
“Anyway, it was the oddest thing. It must have been the light from the window just dazzling my eyes - because when I was at the door I couldn’t see anyone in here. I thought oh, no, I must be wrong, and then suddenly, there you all were, wrestling on the floor.”  
“We were in here all the time,” said Nicola, finding her voice at last. She had been feeling breathless and crushed and - ridiculously - dangerously - close to tears.  
“Well, of course you were,” said Ann. Sensible, steady Ann. Of course she couldn’t have seen six children and a dog materialise out of nowhere, any more than she could have heard a non-existent horn calling from an imaginary country. But she _could_ notice the signs that Ginty was upset.  
“Ginja, is everything alright?”  
“Yes, of course - apart from this lot pounding the life out of me. I’ve just got some dust in my eye is all,” said Ginty, quickly rubbing a careless hand across her eyes. “Honestly Ann, I’m _fine_.”  
“If you’re sure. Oh, and Lawrie - the other reason I came to find you - Tim was on the phone for you. Can you call her back, she said.”  
“What about? Did she say?”  
“Not to me, of course not. It didn’t sound specially urgent - after tea would do - “  
But Lawrie was already scrambling out of the room and down the Shippen stairs.  
“Fob, you’d better come with me so Karen can see you’re here and quite safe - and I think your face needs a wash before tea.”  
Fob growled again, clutching Peter’s sleeve.  
“No, you go on - I’ll be coming in a minute - “ But Fob tugged at him again. Peter sighed, in staged exasperation. “Very well - just this _once_ \- I’ll piggyback you up to the house - Let me get down the stairs first, gel, or you’ll have me on my head.” Before he left, he said to Nicola, indicating the computer, “Don’t touch it. I’ll come back to shut it down.”  
Peter, Ann and Fob disappeared down the stairs, followed by Chas and Rose.  
Nicola held back, feeling that she could well do with a moment to tidy her thoughts, before being thrown into the hubbub of a family tea with the young Doddery in attendance. She was looking out of the small, dirty window at the tops of the trees in the spinney behind the Shippen, bright green with new leaves, when Ginty said, “That was a bit mad, wasn’t it?.” Recognising this as a friendly overture, Nicola murmured agreement.  
“It was a - a jolt coming back like that,” added Ginty.  
“Understatement of the year,” said Nicola - last term’s catchphrase - but she said it kindly.  
Ginty hovered, hesitating. She seemed to make her mind up to it, and said, “Nick. How come _you_ didn’t go to the cinema with - with P - Peter…”  
“It was that film Lawrie and I saw first day of the hols, remember? The day before Peter came home, and Patrick hadn’t broken up yet. It was us telling them how super it was made them want to see it.”  
“ _Oh._ So it’s not that they wanted to go without you?”  
“Gracious no. It’s not _that_ sort of a film.”  
“No - I didn’t mean that,” said Ginty hurriedly. Then, after a brief pause, “What do you think happened to Rosina? Just now.”  
Nicola hesitated. “I don’t know. She’s your person.”  
Ginty nodded. “She must have died, don’t you think? Falling all that way?”  
“Probably.”  
“I think it would be best if she _was_ dead. Rupert’s dead too, or gone forever at least. So - “ Ginty stopped, but Nicola, sensing more to come, said nothing. “There isn’t really a story for them anymore, is there?”  
“No,” said Nicola. “I think it’s probably all over.”  
“You’re right. It’s done now.” Ginty grabbed her coat off the back of Peter’s chair. “Oh, by the way,” she added, her voice hurried and careless, “I should say thanks, you know, for coming and getting me. Multos gracias and all that.”  
“Think nothing of it,” said Nicola, very much astonished, by the thanks as much as anything else.

Nicola counted slowly to a hundred to let Ginty get far enough ahead, and then made her way slowly down the stairs. She found Chas and Rose dawdling outside, throwing a bit of stick for Sammy to chase.  
“I thought Ann told you two to hurry in for tea,” she said, severely.  
“We’re going,” said Chas, unconcerned. “But we wanted to know what to say.”  
“Say?”  
“If the Methren asks us where we were?”  
“Oh. I should stick to what we said to Ann. We were playing Sardines and we all ended up in the Shippen.” Rose looked doubtful, so she added, “After all, we _were_ all in the Shippen really.”  
“Will we ever play Gondal again, d’you think?” asked Chas, sounding hopeful.  
“ _No_. Absolutely not,” she said, so firmly that both Rose and Chas looked startled. “Promise me you’ll never try to get in there again!”  
“Okay,” said Chas, with reluctance. Rose nodded.  
“I mean it. It’s not safe. What if we hadn’t got out of there?”  
“I know,” said Chas. “How was it that when we came back we came back at the same time nearly?”  
“I’ve no idea, and I’m not trying again to find out!”  
“I’ll never get to be a proper engine driver again,” said Chas, sadly. “It was worth it, just to do that.”  
“You _could_ be a real train driver when you leave school, if you want,” said Nicola encouragingly.  
“Not proper trains though - with steam. It wouldn’t be the same, would it, even if I did? Besides, I don’t s’pose Daddy would let me.”  
Nicola steered swiftly past the possibility of a school-leaving Chas wanting to follow a career of which Edwin might not approve, chose not to point out to him that once he was an adult he could do whatever he wanted, and said instead, “They still have steam trains some places.” She recalled a long-distant school trip. “ There’s the Bluebell Line for one.”  
“‘Ever’s that?”  
“Run and find out.” Somewhat to her surprise, Chas took her literally, and started running towards the house, waving the remains of Sammy’s stick so that Sammy too went scampering after him.  
Rose smiled in an indulgent, sisterly way, and walked on soberly with Nicola. They met Peter returning, on his way to make sure they’d shut the Shippen up properly, and left him to catch up.  
As they walked through the stable yard they could hear buckets and bins being clattered in the feed room, noises preparatory to the horses’ feeding time. Tossing heads appeared over stable doors, ears pricked, whickering eagerly. Prisca pawed at her stable door with an impatient bang, and Rose flinched.  
“They’re just excited for their food,” said Nicola..  
Rose nodded. She said something, but her voice was so low, Nicola didn’t catch it. “What was that?”  
Still barely above a whisper, Rose said, “I thought - it might be different now.”  
“What would be different now?” asked Nicola, then suddenly seeing - “Oh. You mean in the game you weren’t - you weren’t scared of animals?”  
“It was because they could talk. It was like in a book.”  
“Ah. I suppose they do sort of talk - in real life. You just have to know what they’re saying,” said Nicola.  
“Oh,” Rose looked doubtful.  
“Listen to Prisca,” said Nicola, indicating Rowan’s cob, who was not only pawing her door but throwing her head up and down and whinneying loudly. “She’s saying ‘Get a move on with my tea, I’m starving!’”  
Rose giggled faintly. “Are they all saying that?”  
“Yes, but Prisca’s being the noisiest, isn’t she?”  
Rose grinned as a thought struck - “Like Chas at dinnertime?”  
“Does Chas ever bang his cutlery on the table like that?”  
“Not when Daddy’s home. Sometimes he would though.”  
Fred Studdart appeared from the feed-room, laden down with buckets. Seeing them, he winked at Rose and asked, “Want to help feed them?”  
Instantly struck dumb, Rose shyly shook her head. Fred put the buckets down, except Prisca’s which he took to her door.. “Not this one - she’s a bad mannered old madam, aren’t you? Get away in there!” and pushing Prisca back, he disappeared into her stable. Re-emerging, he said to Rose, “How about your Grandma’s horse? She’s a proper lady, gentle as a kitten.”.  
Nicola nudged Rose encouragingly. Rose seemed to take a very deep breath, and then stepped forward and took the proffered bucket.  
“There we are, I’ll do the door. Just talk to her, tell her what you’re doing. The manger’s this side, see?”  
In a very small voice indeed, Rose said, “I’ve got your food. Do you want me to put it in your trough?” Chocbar politely stepped back, giving a low, almost soundless whicker which made her nostrils flutter. Rose hurried towards the manger and tipped in the bucket. Chocbar waited for Rose to step back before moving towards her food.  
“Grand job,” said Fred, bolting the stable door. “I expect you’ve got your own tea waiting now.”  
Chas’s face bobbed over the stable yard gate. “C’mon Rose! Methen’s waiting!”  
Rose said a shy thank-you to Fred and ran. Nicola gave the Idiot Boy his bucket of food, then lingered, leaning on his stable door, breathing in the lovely warm smell of pony, horse-feed and fresh hay. She was still there when Peter returned from locking up the Shippen.  
“I shall _keep_ it locked from now on,” he said darkly. “And hide the key. And as for _this_ \- “ He patted his jacket pocket where the game disc was safely stowed - “I’m going to throw this in the river directly after tea.”  
“I might come with you,” said Nicola. “I’d like to see it go with my own eyes.”  
“Fair enough,” said Peter. He joined her in leaning on the Idiot’s door. Nicola sorted through unsaid thoughts, picking at first one thread, then another, but ended up saying nothing. It was Peter who spoke first.  
“Do you think someone should tell him?” asked Peter.  
“Tell who what?”  
“Patrick. About Ginty - to finish it properly, I mean. Not to keep the poor gel hanging about.”  
“Actually I think she might have got it now,” said Nicola, who couldn’t imagine how one would even begin to bring such a subject up.  
“Good. I didn’t fancy doing it, as it happens. Much better all round, if she’s worked it out for herself.”  
For a moment both fell silent again, watching the Idiot snuffling round his manger for the last crumb of pony nut.  
“You know Foley,” said Peter abruptly, surprising Nicola whose thoughts had still been with Patrick.  
“When you say ‘know’ - “ she began, cautiously. Peter had never ever broached the subject of Foley himself - and the one time she’d rather carelessly mentioned him it had been like salt in an open wound. But Peter, webbed in his thought, didn’t wait for her answer.  
“There was a book Selby and I both read last term. It had this character - he was a bit hopeless really - who got involved in spying - giving away secrets - because the person who asked him to had been kind to him at school. D’you think it could have been like that for Foley?”  
“You think Foley might have known the U-boat people at school?”  
“I don’t know. Not them maybe, just whoever ran the whole thing.”  
“ _Could_ be,” said Nicola doubtfully, because Peter so obviously wanted it to be so. “But it doesn’t seem very likely really. Not the way he was - “ Not like Giles, which she’d made the mistake of saying once before. “He never _seemed_ like a hopeless character.”  
Peter was silent. “No,” he said eventually. “He was more like someone who’d get _other_ people to do things.”  
“You know what he was like really?” she said, something heard once and half-forgotten nudging her. “ That animal in the story who bit the other animal that was swimming it across the river. Was it a fox?”  
Rather surprisingly, Peter recognised the story, even from her garbled version. “No, if it’s the one I know, it was a scorpion. It asked the frog to carry it across the river.”  
“That’s right. Then halfway over, the scorpion stung the frog and they both drowned.”  
“And when the frog asked why, the scorpion said he just had to, it was his nature.”  
Obscurely, not quite knowing why, Nicola said “Sorry,”  
“Why?” asked Peter. “It’s not your fault Foley was Foley.”  
Because she clearly couldn’t say - because you want to make Foley _right_ somehow and you mind because you can’t - she said nothing.  
The Idiot, giving up on his manger, came over to see if they had anything else for him. Peter, searching pockets, obliged with the stub end of a packet of polos.  
“That was jolly good thinking about saying we were playing Sardines,” Nicola said, giving the conversation a quick shove.  
“My natural genius, of course,” said Peter. “I was lucky - it just came to me in time. Do you think the Dodds will say anything to anyone?”  
“What if they do? Kay would just think they were making up some imaginary game.”  
“True. Though if they’re going on about Gondal she might think they’ve got hold of the Brontes and they’re all infant geniuses.”  
“I s’pose Fob _will_ eventually stop growling …. We’d better hurry up for tea ourselves. I must say, my stomach feels most confused. It can’t decide if it’s really had nothing since lunch or if it’s just eaten - “  
“Hm. Mine is quite _sure_ it needs rather a lot of scone and jam inside it right about _now_ ,” said Peter.  
When they reached the house, they found Lawrie prancing round the hall, gabbling excitedly about Tim and Stratford and parents and hotels and plays. None of which made much sense until they were all sitting at the tea-table, and Lawrie slowed down and told them everything in the right order. Tim’s parents had agreed that as Tim’s birthday treat they would visit Stratford Upon Avon, and get tickets for two plays and stay in a hotel overnight, and Lawrie had been invited to go too. It was all happening next week so Lawrie would stay with Tim after and go back to school with her, which all created a lovely fuss for Mrs Marlow and Lawrie, and Karen and Ann intermittently, to talk about, leaving the others alone to eat hungrily and steadily without having to answer questions about what they’d been up to all afternoon.  
“Which plays?” asked Karen.  
“Henry IV parts one and two,” answered Lawrie. “What’s in them?”  
“It’s a lot about the one who became Henry Fifth when he was a prince - Chas, don’t _lean_ across the table like that - ask Ginty to _pass_ the butter to you -”  
From time to time Nicola and Ginty or Rose or Peter would catch each other’s eyes and exchange fleeting grins or raise relieved eyebrows. As well as the scones, there was a mountain of fresh bread and butter, and two sorts of cake, washed down with lots of hot tea - at Fob’s insistence, Peter carefully poured a little tea into her mug of milk.  
Nicola munched cherry cake, aware of normality seeping into her bones along with the clatter of teacups and spoons. She thought about Lawrie going to stay with Tim - on the whole a rather good thing. It was much easier to go hawking if there weren’t a load of other people saying _why_ couldn’t they come too and _why_ were they always left on their own with nothing to do.  
A full week of holiday still to go - filled with uninterrupted hawking and Patrick - by the end of the meal it was enough to make her surprise Ann by volunteering to clear the table even though it wasn’t actually her turn.


End file.
